


Fallen Angel

by SilverFountains, witchesdelite



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: BDSM, Bible Quotes, Biblical References, Blood Kink, Blood Play, Brainwashing, Butt Plugs, Chastity Device, Cock Rings, Curiosity, D/s, Dominant Riario, Heavy BDSM, Holy war, Imprisonment, Indoctrination Theory, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masochist Nico, Masochist Riario, Medorthophobia, Painplay, Period-Typical Homophobia, Please read the damned warnings!, Plot, Religion Kink, Religious Conflict, Religious Fanaticism, Scarification, Self-Flagellation, Spanking, Submissive Nico, Trust, Wax Play, Wet Dream, lashing, torture kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-22 16:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10700742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverFountains/pseuds/SilverFountains, https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchesdelite/pseuds/witchesdelite
Summary: When Niccolo is tortured by Count Riario with the Widow's Tear he finds he has a very unexpected reaction to the treatment he receives at the hand of the handsome but cruel count. To his frustration nothing else thereafter seems to come anywhere near the elation he had felt at that moment and in his desperation his goes to look for the count to beg him for more of the same. Whilst Riario is initially dismissive, they soon find that this arrangement could be mutually beneficial. And Nico learns that there is much more to Riario's "art" than the simple executions of a mad man.*Thank you so much, Delorita, for being our wonderful beta!*Please read the tags!Disclaimer - this is fiction set in 15th century Roman Catholic Florence/Rome. Whilst this is a developing, loving Dom/sub relationship there is some dubious con/ non-con torture to start with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I torture you  
> Take my hand through the flames  
> I torture you  
> I'm a slave to your games  
> I'm just a sucker for pain  
> I wanna chain you up  
> I wanna tie you down  
> I'm just a sucker for pain

Nico stares wide eyed at the box that had been put in front of him. He has no idea what the box is but a feeling of dread has crept up on him. He knows whatever is inside this box cannot be good but he will never give up his maestro’s secrets.  

He looks up into the face of the count trying to show his own void of emotion, determined not to give the man the satisfaction of knowing how much fear he brings him. “I will never give you my maestro's secrets,” he says trying to keep the wobble from his voice. “You will have to kill me first.”  

Riario looks at Nico in a bored fashion. “Don't tempt me,” he sighs, turning the handle of the device slowly. “I'm not interested in your heroics. Now, let's see how long before your idle tongue starts speaking.” He feels the slight resistance as the inner blade of the foreign device digs into skin and he grins at the look of shock that instantly appears on the young man's face. 

Nico gives out a little yell of surprise as he feels his skin being pierced. He tries to pull his arm free, but then realises this is just making what he can only guess is some form of knife, go deeper in his hand. The boy’s breath hitches as he tries to not yell out again, and screws up his eyes tight. He can feel an odd tingle run through his body as the count continues to pull the lever tighter.  “Bastard,” the teenager growls.   

“Yes,” Riario grins his cold smile that never reaches his eyes. “But my heritage is no concern of yours.”  He turns the lever again, slowly, watching the dark red blood begin to drip out of the widow's eyes. “An exquisite piece of design, don't you think? Your master surely would be intrigued by its mechanics.” 

The blond-haired teenager can feel his heartbeat quicken as he watches the count turn the handle again. He cannot help focus on the movements. Tears prick the corner of his eyes as he watches with both horror and shockingly he can feel blood rush to his prick.  _ What the fuck?  _ He thinks. He is not naive enough to not know what is happening but is shocked to feel the feelings of fear and horror subside to feelings of something completely different and shifts his lower body, trying to hide his growing sin.  

Riario eyes Nico curiously. He had expected the young man to break at the first sense of pain, pampered scholar that he is. In fact he'd expected surrender even before he had laid his hands on him, at the sight of the beheading of the messenger alone. But it appears the youngster is made of sturdier material than he had given him credit for. The count cannot decide whether he's being stupidly loyal to his master or simply foolishly stubborn. But he could almost believe that the other is enjoying the battle of wills as much as he is.  

“The key, Nico,” he encourages sweetly. “The secret is not yours to guard. And Da Vinci is not worth your blood, surely?”  

_ Nico pull it together!  _ He scolds himself. He scoffs down a moan, trying to hide his sin from sight from the older man. He is torn between wanting the pain to continue and wanting it to stop, unsure why it is having this effect so greatly on his body. He tries to block out the count’s words, which seem to be affecting him almost as much. “Alright I shall take you to his workshop,” Nico gasps as he can feel both his prick tenting his trousers and the pain become too much. “Just stop, please,” he says willing his erection to wilt.   

Riario holds his hand on the lever just a moment longer, studying Nico, intrigued by the blush in his face. He would almost say that there is a sense of arousal there.  

“Good,” he says coolly though, unclasping the lock. He's satisfied with the result for sure even though he feels a little bereft that the game is over already. “Chain him,” he orders his henchman who promptly pulls the young man to his feet.  

“Oh Nico,” Riario begins to laugh out loud as the young man's compromised state is revealed to him. Of course Machiavelli is not the first to have reacted in such a manner - fear and pain do strange things to men, he knows that all too well. “A true Florentine,” he spits the word like a curse. “The Devil truly feasts in these heinous lands it appears.”  

He waves his gloved hand in disgust, “Take him out of my sight.” 

Nico can feel the heat in his face intensify as he realises that his enemy has noticed the effect the torture has had on him, embarrassment now mixed in with pain as well as anger. He is angry at showing weakness to the count.  

The guards pull at his chains dragging him from the clearing. He is confused at why this act has made him feel like this. Nothing had ever made him feel this aroused before. He feels fit to burst and does not understand why.  _ Is there something wrong with me?  _ He wonders knowing a few more turns of the little handle on the box would have taken him over the edge. 

+++ 

Nico lies awake under his blanket. He is unable to sleep and has not been able to get the encounter with the evil count out of his head.  _ Why did I react like that? _ He asks himself for what must the hundredth time in two days. He feels ashamed to admit it to himself but he had actually enjoyed the torture that had been forced upon him. He examines the cuts on the back of his hand again. Instead of feeling anger he feels humiliation and also a little fizzle of excitement.  

His prick begins to harden at the memory alone and he growls in frustration, kicking the blanket off his legs. Part of him wants to curse the count for the mind tricks he has placed upon him, the other part wants to find him and beg him for more, to beg him to make him feel like this again, to give him more of the pleasure pain that his body and mind seeks. 

He gets out of the cot like bed, listening to Leo and Zo as they sleep off the booze from the previous night, and grabs his coat from a nearby chair. He is unsure where he is going but cannot just lie there with his thoughts any longer, and walks quietly to the door, making just not to wake the other sleeping men.  

He makes his way down the deserted back streets unsure where his legs are carrying him.  _ Damn that man!  _ He thinks frustrated as all he can think about is going to see the count again.  

He finds himself walking to the quieter part of the city.  _ He has somehow put some kind of spell on me,  _ he thinks wondering if he should have told his master  what had happened to him at the clearing.  

He finds himself stood outside the building that was rumoured the count had taken as his quarters. He finds himself moving closer to the window, unsure why he is here and what he hopes to achieve out of his spying.  

“What do you think you're doing?!” Two huge hands grab Nico from behind and twist him around painfully.  _ The Nightwatch, damn!  _ He had been foolish to be so careless and ignore the curfew.  

He blinks into the face of Signore Dragonetti as he bends himself closer with his torch light to see better who his brute has caught. “Well well,” the captain of the guard smirks, “if it isn't young Niccolo Machiavelli, Da Vinci's spawn. And what are you doing here after curfew? Have you lost your way?” he mocks. 

“Let go of me,” Nico orders fighting against the large man with no luck, as the man is twice the size of him.  _ You fool!! _ He curses himself as he is pulled into the inn.  _ No one even knows where you are. _ Panic sets in and he begins to fight with more force but it is no good, he is like this man's puppet. 

“Take him inside,” Dragonetti orders. “Let Count Riario decide what he wants to do with this one.” 

Nico can feel his skin pale at this. Horror fills up inside of him as he can feel his cock begin to swell and sweat drip down his brow. His breathing is hitching at the thought of what Count Riario might say or do. “Please let me go,” he tries again more feebly, wondering why he had just not stayed in the workshop. _ Damn you are stupid Nico. Your master and Zo do not even know where you are.   _

“Your Grace,” Dragonetti bows his head before the Roman visitor. For a moment he feels guilty for bringing the young man. In front of the cruel count, knowing his reputation all too well. But it's too late now to have a change of heart and he pushes Nico forward as the aristocrat rises to his feet. “We found this one outside the window of your lodgings. I will arrest him for breach of curfew of course, but perhaps you would like to take a look at him first?” 

Count Riario looks at the blond prisoner, annoyed to have his evening interrupted by some Florentine lowlife. But as soon as the defiant blue eyes glare up at him from under those wild golden curls he smirks.  

“Nico,” he says sweetly, stepping forward and grabbing the youngster’s chin hard in his hand, yanking his head up further. “You sought to pay me a visit, what an unexpected pleasure.” 

Nico hates the way the count's voice makes him feel; both angry and little bit turned on if he is truly honest with himself. He pulls back his head and spits in his face. Not saying a word.  

Riario frowns and lets Nico's chin go. He pulls a kerchief from his pocket and wipes the spittle from his cheek.  

“You insolent boy!” Dragonetti bellows in Nico's face, horrified. He slaps Nico across the face with the back of his hand. “How dare you!” 

Nico lets out a hiss, as he feels the sting on his cheek. He swallows as he can see the anger on both the older men’s faces. He suddenly regrets this action and tries to move himself away from the count only to be dragged back in place by Dragonetti. 

The count takes a moment to weigh up the options as he eyes Nico. Normally he would have ordered such a man to be dragged away to be publicly scandalised on the order of the Florentine law. But truth is Nico Machiavelli had impressed him the other day with his resolve and his cunningness as he had had the guts to entrap him and revenge the injury he had caused him mere hours before.  

“Leave him with me,” he orders the Nightwatch. “Master Machiavelli and I have some unfinished business to discuss.” 

Nico watches as the man leaves. “We have nothing to talk about,” he snaps as the door shuts, eyeing the man with dislike. He feels a little on edge being alone with his tormentor, and eyes the door wondering if he can make a quick escape.  

“ _ Your Grace,”  _  Riario corrects. “You will address me as Your Grace.” 

_ Am I in hell?  _ Nico thinks to himself looking into the dark haired man's face. He can feel his stomach churn. “Yes your grace,” he finds coming off his lips before he knows what he is saying.  _ Why does this man effect me so?  _

Riario grins in satisfaction. “Now,” he walks up behind Nico, breathing in his ear, “I'm curious. You won the game. You set me up, had that rigged chest blow up in my face and made a fool of me. You got away and yet here you are, looking for trouble. I'm not the kind of man who takes lightly to being embarrassed like that. I thought I had made my reputation clear the first time we met.” He stops walking around Nico and fixes him with his stare as he puts both hands on his shoulders. “Why are you here?” he hisses in a menacing tone even though he still has that cold smile on his face. 

_ Why am I here?  _ Nico asks himself, unsure of the reason himself. He can feel his face flush as Count Riario stares at him. “I… I don't know,” he admits quietly, trying to calm down his heart beat. “I… I couldn't sleep and found myself here,” he admits reluctantly.  

Count Riario raises an eyebrow. None of that makes sense. If men cannot sleep they do not go to seek out their mortal enemy.  

He pulls his dagger out if its sheath and places the tip under Nico's chin, grabbing the back of his hair as he breathes into his face. “You lie,” he growls. “Do not mistake me for a fool. Did Da Vinci send you?” 

“No, no one knows I am here,” he says instantly regretting his confession.  _ No, no one does know you are here. This man could kill you and nobody would know.  _ He dares not move and looks down at the knife feeling his eyes widen. He is ashamed to feel his manhood twitch slightly. “I do not lie.”  

“No-one knows you're here…” Riario repeats incredulously. He lowers his blade and releases his grip. “You are foolish, Niccolo Machiavelli. Go home.” He sheathes his dagger and waves his hand dismissively. 

“You… you did something to me!” Nico accuses.” Grabbing the count’s arm. “What did you do to me?”   

The Captain General yanks back his arm. “What do you mean?” he stares at Nico like he's a rabid fox, wary of the strange encounter now. “You know exactly what I did. Now get out before I treat you to more of the same!”  

“Maybe I want more of the same,” Nico blurts out before he knows what he is saying. Nico lowers his gaze unable to look the older man in the eyes.  

The count splutters is disbelief. “You… are asking me to torture you?” He begins to laugh as he takes a few steps back and sits himself down, studying the blushing young man. “What did Da Vinci do to you in his ungodly experiments? Did he remove your sensibility?” 

“Perhaps,” Nico says quietly wondering about his sanity himself at this point. He wishes he could take back what he had just said but can't. He also knows this is true. He takes a deep breath, feeling his blush increase more, and he tries to get control over his body. ”Yes, Your Grace, I am asking you to torture me,” he confesses quietly.  

Riario's deep dark laughter rolls through his chest before he shoots to his feet. “I will do no such thing,” he says coolly. “How dare you suggest I indulge you in your wicked ways.” It makes sense now, this whole spectacle. He thinks back to the day he had used the Widow's Tear on the boy and how he had reacted to it. “I'm sure that this godforsaken city will provide for your depravity. I, however,” he hisses, “I'm the Pope's nephew and the Captain General of the Holy Roman Church, not some whore madam! Now leave!” His threat is real this time as he points his dagger at the youngster. 

Nico rushes to the door at this very real threat.  _ Why did you admit to that for?  _ He asks himself pulling his cloak high and rushing back to the safety of his master’s chambers.  

He opens the door forgetting to be quiet, and shuts it with a loud bang. He can hear a crash behind him and can see his two friends on their feet with their swords out. “Sorry maestro,” he says taking a seat by the little wooden table and taking a mouthful of water.  _ What possessed you to go there? What did you expect after saying something like that?   _

“Nico, what the fuck?” Zo exclaims, lowering his sword instantly.  

“Nico? Where have you been?” Leo walks up to his apprentice, confused as to what had happened when he had not even noticed Nico had been gone until he had awoken them so harshly. 

Nico thinks about his reply. He knows he cannot admit the truth, and also knows he is a poor liar, so decides on a half true. “I could not sleep so I went for a walk.” He takes of his cloak and places it across one of the chairs, “Sorry I woke you.”  

“A walk? It's curfew! Are you insane? Which were you trying to achieve? To get arrested  or killed?” Zo growls. 

Nico shrugs. “You and Leo are always out after curfew why can't I?” He snaps back. “I didn't get caught did I?”  

“Nico,” Leonardo sighs as he kneels beside his friend. “You shouldn't be going out on your own. Zo is right, it's dangerous. Especially with Riario and his hounds prowling the streets. You sure don't want to be running into him again now do you,” he nods to Nico's injured hand. 

Nico can feel his heart jolt at the count's name, and he looks away from his friend not wanting to give anything away. “Well I didn't did I? I am not a child, I am 20 years old,” he says softly, looking at his hand.  

“What has that got to do with anything?!” Zo exclaims, still grumpy that he had been woken up and that Nico, who he looks on like a younger brother, had gone out during curfew without telling anyone. “Riario won't care if you're a child or not. He's dangerous! The man is fucking insane! He probably eats children for breakfast!”  

“Zo …” Leonardo tries to diffuse the situation. “Nico is here and nothing bad happened. Just drop it.” He gets to his feet and ruffles Nico's curls. “I'll make you a hot drink to help you sleep. But next time don't go sneaking off on your own please. At least let us know where you are. Just in case. Okay?”  

Nico thinks about what Zo has just said.  _ If Riario is so dangerous, why am I still alive?  _ He wonders, accepting the drink from Leo. “Next time I'll let you know.” He agrees taking a sip as all sorts of thoughts go around in his head.  _ He could have killed me. He had the opportunity why didn't he?  _

_ +++ _

Nico looks up at the whore house. He can feel his palms which are sweaty with nerves. He is unsure if he is doing the right thing but Riario's words keep going around his head about finding a whore madam.  

He pushes open the door.  _ Man up!  _ He says reminding himself that Leo and Zo  

come here all the time. He thinks about his unusual request and wonders if they will be able to cater to his desires.   

“Can I help you?” a tall exotic looking woman asks him in a voice sweet as honey. 

Nico looks at the woman unsure what to even say. “Yes…I am after a man,” he stutters feeling a little nervous. 

“You can have whatever you want, my lovely,” the powerful madam grins at the newcomer. “If you have the money…” 

“I have,” he taps his coin purse, and looks around the room, looking at all the different men. Nothing really makes his body have the same fizzle, the mixture of both fear and excitement. He bites at the corner of lip once again wondering if he is doing the right thing by coming here.  _ None of these men even look like the count _ , he thinks, disappointed. 

“Very well,” Madam Singh rises to her feet, more interested in the boy now that he has shown her the means to pay. “Any special wishes? Large or small? Hairy or bald? You want to be on top or bottom?” 

“Bottom,” Nico says knowing that much at least. “Have you got any men with short black hair?” He asks looking around. “Someone who takes control.”   

“I see,” the madam smiles knowingly. “That we can certainly accommodate for. Follow me.” She leads Nico down a set of stairs to a black velvet curtain. “Five lire,” she holds out a sleek hand adorned with jewels. 

Nico fumbles around pulling out the money. He can feel his cock fill and a smile spread across his face.  _ This is exactly what I need, to get him off my mind.  _ He thinks following the woman through the curtains.  

“Enjoy, signore,” the madam bows her head and leaves her patron with his purchase. 

He can feel his face drop as he looks upon his whore.  _ He is too young, too dark skin, too friendly faced.  _ He thinks with a sad sigh, feeling his erection wilt away, he moves further into the room.  

“On your knees,” the master commands in a somewhat bored fashion as he pulls out a leather strapped whip. “What's it to be? Back or arse?”  

Nico looks up at this man.  _ This whole layout is wrong. He is not meant to be asking me, he is meant to be telling me. _ “I…. I can't do this,” he says disappointedly.  _ He's not Riario  _ he realises.   

The other man frowns. It will not look good if his client walks out so soon. “I can chain you up,” he suggests. “Use nipple clamps, most clients like that…” 

Nico shakes his head. “Its nothing you can help with,” he says sadly, sitting in a nearby seat. “It's nothing personal you are just not him.” He thinks out loud putting his face into his hands.  

_ Him?  _ The other man shrugs. At least the madam got her money, even if this odd client decides not to get his money's worth. “No matter.”  

+++ 

“We're going to Rome,” Leonardo states, several weeks later. “If Riario has the other key then he will keep it somewhere safe. Like the Vaults of the Vatican!” he looks triumphantly from Zo to Nico. 

Nico can feel his heart skip a beat as it always does when the count's name is mentioned but forces it away just as quickly. “What if it isn't there maestro, what then?” He asks. 

“It is there,” Leonardo says without any trace of doubt. “Let's go.” 

Zo shrugs. Once Leonardo has something in his head no living soul can talk him out of it. And whilst the idea of testing to break into the Vatican is absolutely ridiculous that has never stopped the genius either. In any case it will be an adventure of that he can be sure. “Let's go,” he agrees, slapping Nico across the shoulders. 

“Maybe, I should stay here,” Nico suggests not wanting to face Riario any time again soon. “To look after the workshop.” He knows it sounds pathetic but wants to go anywhere but Rome. 

“Nonsense,” Zo laughs. “Verrocchio is quite capable of that himself. “Where Leo goes, we go.” It leaves no room for maneuvering as Zo already begins to pack their bags. 

Nico sighs knowing he will not win if he argues, and starts to help Zo with their stuff.  _ Maybe I won't even have to see him.  _ He thinks, bundling a spare pair of slacks into a bag. “How long will we be away?” He asks. He had never had a problem going away with Leo before, in fact he usually was rearing to go. However this trip fills him with dread.  

“As long as it takes to pry the key from the snake's nest,” Leo smiles as he begins to saddle his horse. 

“I have a bad feeling about this trip,” Nico says more to himself then his companions as he places the saddle on his own horse.  _ Leo only wants us with him as his lackeys anyway. _ He thinks, thinking back to previous trips. Then instantly feeling guilty. “Let's go,” he says trying to bring his usual enthusiasm into his voice.  

+++ 

Nico knows he should have trusted his gut instinct. The moment Leonardo disappeared under water this already ludicrous plan just became a whole lot more insane. Now he's staring into the cold eyes of the man who has been haunting his dreams for weeks and Zoroaster and Leonardo are nowhere to be seen still.  

“Nico,” the count licks his lips as he kicks off the diving contraption. His hand shoots out to close around the boy’s throat. “Where is Da Vinci or that mongrel of his?” 

Nico moves his fingers to his neck trying to pull Riario’s fingers from it. “I… I don't know,” he gasps. His eyes darting around the clearing for a weapon of some sort.  

Riario follows his eyes but cannot see any sign of either. “Then you'll come with me,” he states, locking his hand firmly around Nico's wrist as he prods the point of his blade against his side. “And for your sake you'd better pray that your maestro is prepared to play the hero for you as much as my fucking cousin,” he hisses under his breath. 

Nico tries to pull free but Riario’s grip but is too tight and he finds he has no choice but to do as the count asks. A little bit of his previous excitement comes back as he is manhandled by the man who he has been dreaming of, dreaming of what he would like this man to do to him. “Where…where are we going?”  

Riario doesn't respond as he marches Nico through the maze of corridors and tunnels that run deep into the Vatican. Indeed he does not speak the entire time despite Nico's various attempts to ask questions about his fate and that of his friends, unlocking gate after door until Nico is beginning to feel they are going round in circles.  

“Get in,” the words finally fall from the count's lips as he unlocks yet another door and pushes his prisoner inside. 

Nico falls to the floor, but he scrambles to his feet hastily. “Leo will find you and kill you,” he vows, looking into the count’s smirking face. He rushes towards Riario trying to catch him by surprise but finds himself being pushed back again. “He will find the key.”  

At that Riario begins to laugh out loud. He slowly pulls open his shirt, keeping his eyes trained on Nico, and reaches inside. “ _ This _ key?” he winks at the youngster. 

Nico’s eyes widen with shock.  _ Leo you fool! Of course he would keep the key on him,  _ he  thinks angrily. He starts to worry about the fate of his friends as well as his own. “Where are we?” he asks looking around the room.  

Riario crosses his arms as he remains standing in the doorway. “Some while ago you were reckless enough to beg for my attention,” he ignores the question. “Now you have it fully. You should be more grateful, young Nico. Or perhaps be more careful what you wish for…” He turns the key in the door behind him and stares Nico down with a dark look in his eyes.  

Nico moves his eyes down to the ground looking at the floor. Even Riario's voice seems to affect his body, as he can feel himself reacting to it.  _ Why are you enjoying this? You are his prisoner.  _ He tries to control his feelings taking a deep a breath. “What are you going to do to me?” he asks in a nervous voice, wishing it were more steady.   

The count slowly begins to pace the length of the room, his high boots clicking a steady rhythm on the wooden floor. “You have given me a dilemma,” he says softly. “There are plenty of things that come to mind of what I wish to do to someone who breaks into my home, who attempts to steal from me. Indeed someone who already has earned himself a reputation as my foe. However,” he stops pacing abruptly, turning on the spot to face his prisoner, “what to do with a prisoner who  _ wants _ to be punished? Hm?” he cocks his head at the blond boy standing in the middle of the room. 

Nico stares into Riario’s face. He can feel his own cheeks flush.  _ Is he actually going to give me what I desire?  _ he momentary wonders then lets out a little laugh of his own.  _ Of course not. He will probably leave you here to rot.  _ “Well it looks like you do have quite a dilemma,” he admits with a grin on his face.  

Riario smirks. He appreciates Nico's foolish bravado. No begging for mercy. No pathetic attempts to argue for his release. He faces his predicament with the same curious resolve as he had the Widow’s Tear.  _ How far can I push him till he breaks?  _ he wonders.  

“Did you take my advice?” he asks casually as he begins to pull off his gloves, not looking at Nico now. “To help you with your… interests?”   

“Yes… I tried. It didn't work out,” Nico admits, not taking his eyes off the count. He could almost laugh at how the conversation had turned to almost friendly. “I didn't end up going through with it,” the blonde young man admits.   

Riario raises his eyes again. He is surprised, but more so by the elation he feels at that admission than the fact that Nico had bailed out. “How come?” he asks, stepping one step closer to the younger man. “Surely Madam Singh would cater for any depravity you could dream up?” the count makes it known that he is fully aware of what goes on in the bowels of Florence. 

“And she ... it's just…. He wasn't...”  _ you.  _ Nico finishes the sentence in his head not saying the words out loud. He still feels confused at why Riario seems to have this hold on him. “Anyway how do you know about what goes on at Madam Singh's?” he asks, wondering if the count has visited before for his own pleasure. The thought sparks a little jealousy for someone else being with this man.   

"I know about every vice on the Italian peninsula,” Riario snorts. “It is my job to root out the Devil's work. And his disciples. Of course, some we simply keep a close eye on. As long as they pay for that privilege into the coffers of Rome.” He smirks. “As for your predicament… I am surprised.” 

Nico feels a little relieved that Riario seems to not have visited the whore house himself. “So what are you going to do with me, Riario?” he asks, changing the topic. “Remember you still have that predicament.”    

The count shoots out his hand as he grabs Nico by the back of his neck, bringing himself up close enough for Nico to see the white of his eyes. “Do not forget your place, apprentice of the bastard Da Vinci! I have told you before that you will address me as Your Grace. I will not remind you again.” 

At this Nico can feel his face break into a smile having got a reaction out of the older man. “Yes, Your Grace.” He can feel a mixture of fear as well as excitement fizzle over his body. “So, Your Grace what are you going to do with me?” he asks again slightly mockingly wanting to push the man's buttons.  

“I feel it pertinent to teach you some humility,” the count snaps, “since clearly this is something your maestro lacks. As for the  _ predicament,  _ I've given that some thought since our last encounter.” Indeed, he had given it rather more thought than he should have but he will not yet share that with Nico. “And I can help you with that.” He releases the youngster and takes a step back. “Strip,” he orders coolly, crossing his arms. 

Nico hesitates. “You want me to strip?” he asks, repeating the order at the older man, feeling surprised at this sudden change of mind from their previous encounter. The count stares at him with a look of danger on his face and he tugs his tunic up over his head.  

Count Riario turns his back on Nico and walks over to the mahogany dresser in the corner, pulling open the top drawer. When he turns back he finds the blonde young man standing before him in his undergarments and he frowns. “Are you defying me still?” he asks with threat in his voice. “Are you refusing my order?!” 

“No, Your Grace,” Nico says realising that the count wants his undergarments gone too. He slowly pulls down his cottons, his face flushing red as he reveals his half hard cock to Riario, before cupping his privates from view. The blonde man moves his gaze to the wooden floor.  

“Better,” Riario nods as he walks up to Nico. “Although clearly  _ this _ is a necessity to help you overcome your lusts.” He holds out the item he had picked up. It's a fine design of precious silver. “Now remove your hands so that we can put it in place,” he says almost kindly. 

Nico eyes the device. His eyes widen when he realises what it's for. He opens his mouth to argue but closes it again thinking better of this. He reluctantly moves his hands allowing the count to view his angry swollen cock.  

The count hands his prisoner the cold, precious cage. “Put it on,” he orders, moving his eyes away from Nico's indiscretion. “I will not have you display yourself like that in front of me.” 

Nico moves the device to his prick, then looks up at the count with almost pleading eyes. “Do I have to wear this thing?” he asks in a soft whimper. One cold stare from Riario is enough of a response and he begins to fasten the device around his cock, letting out a hiss as the cold metal touches his hardened manhood.  

Riario glances over and once he's satisfied that the other man has complied with his instruction he steps up to him once more. He clasps the lock in place. “Back chat me one more time and I will rip out your tongue,” he warns, putting the key in his pocket. “Now, let's try this again and think carefully about your answers.  _ Where _ is Da Vinci?!” 

Nico thinks about this question. Despite his lusting for Riario he knows he cannot betray his master. “They left me, him and Zo told me to keep guard then never came back,” he lies bringing his hands down to cover the metal by habit. “So I have no idea.”  

“That is the wrong answer,” Riario shakes his head disappointedly. He draws his dagger and twists the point on the palm of his hand, dragging a thin line of blood for Nico to see. “The question is, where shall I cut first to help you recall the right answer…” 

Nico gulps looking at the count's hand. “I do not know where the maestro is,” he repeats, as he watches Riario move the dagger. “He doesn't tell me of his plans, I am his mere apprentice,” he takes a step back from the count feeling a little weary now.  

“Don't move!” Riario barks. He slowly begins to circle his captive, dragging the flat side of his blade across Nico's bare flesh, the tip leaving thin red lines on blank flesh. He feels his own excitement throb slowly through his body as the tension between them is palpable.  

Nico can feel his manhood pulse against its own prison. He is sure if the metal device was not on he would be fully hard. His instincts tell him to move away from the count but he forces himself to stay still. “Do you not think I would tell you if I knew of Da Vinci’s plans?”  

“No,” the count responds coolly. “I think that you are foolishly loyal to him.” He steps right up to Nico, breathing against his neck, the movement of his lips teasing the tiny white hairs there. “In any case, you want this, don't you, Niccolo? You have been shamelessly begging me for this. Crying yourself to sleep because nothing gives you the relief you'd felt when I cut into your flesh. Nothing has made you feel so alive as that moment when you weren't sure whether I was going to let you live.” 

Nico can't help but let out a moan as Riario gets it dead on. His face is flushed and his stomach jolts. He longs for the count to press his lips upon his neck.  _ Please, just touch me, goddamn you,  _ he thinks. Riario runs the blade along his arms and he lets out another groan. “Please,” he begs feeling a bead of sweat drip down his brow.  

The slash across the top of his back takes the young man by surprise and he gasps for air as a sharp pain shoots through him. “I told you I would not remind you again,  _ insolente!” _ Riario hisses venomously as he pushes Nico to his knees onto the wooden floor. “Try again.” 

“I… I am sorry, Your Grace,” Nico gasps feeling a spark of excitement flush through his body as well as pain. He remains on his knees, not daring to get up. “Please, Your Grace.” 

“Good,” Riario smiles in satisfaction, crouching behind his subject. He bends himself forward and runs the tip of his tongue across the shallow gash across Nico's back, tasting the salty blood that pearls at its fringes. 

Nico feels a shiver run down his spine as the count licks his blood.  _ This should not turn you on,  _ he thinks, letting out a little moan.  _ What is wrong with you?  _ He tries to turn his head to look at Riario only to find him yanking his hair so he cannot move his head. He lets out a hiss at this. He longs to reach out and touch the older man but dares not.  

The count revels in the reaction he draws from Nico. He knows that the device holds him under control; not allowing the youngster to ruin this perfect opportunity prematurely.  

Slowly he runs the tip of his blade down Nico's back, pushing just slightly harder than before. Just enough to leave a scratch that will not fade instantly. “Hold very still,” he warns as he pulls the blade down further still until it rests on the young man's most intimate place. “Do not move,” he orders again, not wanting to cut the boy there without intention. 

Nico heeds the older man's warning, his breath is raspy at this point as both pleasure and pain runs over him. Nico feels the count move the blade teasingly against his ass hole.  

“You think I don't understand?” Riario asks in a whisper, breathing into Nico's ear, the point of his blade still resting against his anus as if he might penetrate him with it. “But I do.” He flicks his tongue out again like a serpent, prodding it briefly into Nico's ear. “You and I are not so different, Niccolo,” he grins.  

“How so, Your Grace?” he asks feeling nothing but fearful for the first time since this encounter started.  _ Am I truly as warped as Count Riario?  _ He is holding his breath as the count keeps the blade dead still.  _ Is he going to cut my insides?  _ He wonders, daring not to move a muscle, in fear of what Riario may do to him if he angers him anymore.   

“Why did you come to me?” Riario carefully pulls away the blade and gets to his feet. He goes to stand in front of Nico, wiping the blade on his kerchief. “Did you speak to Da Vinci about what you desire? Or Zoroaster?” 

“Because…… I don't know, there is something about you, Your Grace. I could never imagine doing anything like this with Leo or Zo,” Nico admits, biting his lip. “I guess  I like the authoritative side to you,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief as the dagger is moved.  

“Would you really have stabbed me there?”  

“No,” Riario smiles coolly. “I want to hurt you not kill you. You see,” he kneels in front of Nico and grabs his chin firmly, “my art may not be as aesthetically pleasing as your maestro's, but it requires just as much skill.” He brings the dagger against Nico's cheek and slices with a swift flick of his wrist. “You need to know,” he smirks as he gives Nico a matching gash on his other cheek, “ _ where _ to cut. How to inflict as much pain,” he yanks Nico's head back by his golden curls and points the dagger at his eye, “without inflicting mortal wounds.” His lips hover but millimeters above Nico's quivering ones. “To make it last…” he says so quietly it's like a sigh.  

Nico resists the urge to lock his lips with his torturer, of fear of the knife going into his eye. But oh how he wants to. He can see that Riario can guess his intention as his grin gets bigger. He can feel the blood rolling down his cheek and watches as the count licks it in one strip, repeating the same action on the other side, never moving the dagger. “It must require a lot of skill to keep the dagger from moving,” he voices his thoughts outloud. 

_ Fascinating. Fear but bravery too. Flattery even.  _ Riario pulls back the blade and decides to allow his captive a small token of his appreciation as he pushes his bloodied tongue into his mouth, teasing him for only a moment before he pulls back, leaving the other breathless. 

Nico stares wide eyed at the count as he pulls away. “Thank you, Your Grace,” he says allowing a little smile to spread across his face. He can taste his own blood in his mouth, but instead of feeling repulsed by this he finds he quite likes it. He can feel how hard he would be if the device would allow, and let's out a frustrated moan.   

The Captain General gives a curt nod and licks his lips. “I like you, Nico,” he admits. “You are worthy of my art.” He grabs one of the chairs in the corner and sits himself down in front of his prisoner, studying him. He looks like a fallen angel, he decides. With his angelic curls and the silver cage around his manhood. 

Nico can feel his heartbeat get faster at the count’s confession. “You do? Why?” He asks.  _ I am not as smart as Da Vinci or quick witted as Zo. “ _ Can I sit down?” He asks indicating to a second chair. He can feel the weight of his confinement weighing down his cock.  

Riario snorts. “Certainly not. You are still my prisoner. But you may stand if you prefer.” He crosses his leg casually across the other and plays with the dagger between his fingers. “You are cut from a different cloth,” he answers the initial question. “You see the world differently. Like Da Vinci and yet not the same.” He balances the tip of the blade on the palm of his hand. “In many ways you remind me of myself. Perhaps another side to the same coin.” 

Nico pulls a face as he thinks about this for a second as he stands up, shifting his legs a little as his body begins to feel sore.  _ Do I like the count?  _ he questions thinking about his words previously.  _ I like what he does to me, I like how he makes me feel.  _ “Have you ever done that to anyone else before?” he asks then remembers his manners. “Your Grace.”  

The count smirks at the correction but fixes Nico with his stare. “You ask too many questions that do not concern you.”  

He nods to the cage that keeps Nico constricted. “How does it feel?” he asks softly, “to know that I can bring you so close to that which you seek but you can never truly reach that goal?” 

Nico looks down at his cage. “It feels strange. I can feel the need to spill, can still feel the frustration, it hurts. I could feel it press against the sides, as you were slashing me.” He tries to explain, “I… I cannot reach full size,” he admits his face going scarlet at this confession.  

Riario shakes his head. “I see that we have some way to go still,” he says a little disappointedly. “You have not yet elevated your mind from your primal urges.” He puts the dagger on top of the table next to him and reaches for the candelabra instead. “God cannot be welcomed into your heart whilst the Devil still rules your lusts.” He gets up slowly. “Will you continue to disappoint me, when I've given you so much praise?” 

“I…I cannot help it,” Nico argues eyeing the candle and backing away from the older man. “ I do not know why you affect me so.”   

“Oh Niccolo,” Riario purrs as he takes one of the candles from its holder and waves the palm of his hand across the flame. “I know. I know your desperation. I too have suffered the temptation of the Beast.” He cocks his head at the youngster. “But it's hollow. It's cheap relief,” he shakes his head in disgust. “It's like comparing the sketches of a street artist to the works of your master. There is something greater, Nico, that transcends what you think you want most.” He steps up to Nico and with his free hand grabs the silver device, pulling it gently but firmly. “Take your mind off your cock, Nico.” 

Nico let's out a gasp as Riario pulls at his confinements, wishing he could feel the man's hand rubbing against him instead of the god forsaken device. “Please take it off,” he pleads, forgetting for a second who he's talking to. “I want to feel your hand,” he admits boldly. 

Riario slaps Nico hard across the face with the back of his hand. “How dare you!” he shouts. “Did you not listen to anything I just said? What do you think I am, your whore?!” 

“No…” Nico let's out a cry as his fresh cut begins to hurt more due to where the count had slapped. “ I... I am sorry, Your Grace,” the blonde youngster apologises trying to move away from Riario only to find him grab his arm hard.  

“You do not back away. You do not talk. You do as I say or I will leave you in here to rot. You understand?” Riario snarls. 

Nico goes to open his mouth to argue then closes it again nodding his head instead. The thought of being left alone worries him a little more than being in a room with Riario. _ What if he really did not come back?  _ He looks into the count's eyes and sees anger bubbling under the surface and gulps.  

Girolamo takes a deep breath and softens his gaze a little. “It's alright, Niccolo,” he strokes the glowing cheek he had just slapped. “You are learning. Da Vinci has been a poor tutor. You must trust me. Do you trust me, Nico?” he cocks his head slightly.  

_ No, I can't trust you.  _ Nico thinks but doesn't say this. “I…l don't know,” he admits, flinching as he prepares for another slap. He finds he struggles to lie to Riario, more than he does to Leonardo or Zo.  

Riario is not surprised by that response, but he's disappointed nonetheless. He keeps his emotions under lock and key though. 

“Kneel,” he orders. “On your hands and knees. If you do not trust me then place your trust in God.” 

This time Nico does exactly as he is told facing towards the count. He wonders what the count is about to do but does not question remembering his orders to keep quiet. He can feel anticipation and looks up at Riario.  

Riario considers his submissive, enjoying the sight of Da Vinci's apprentice knelt before him like that.  

He takes a step forward so that he stands right before his subject, his boots almost touching. “Surrender your wicked ways,” he says as he tilts the candle in his hand until molten wax starts to drip over the edge. “Embrace the pain.” 

Nico lets out a cry as a little of the hot wax drops onto his shoulder. His shoulder spasms, and he takes a deep breath, it is only a momentary pain and then the wax begins cool, he lets out a sigh of relief.   

Riario only gives Nico a second to catch his breath before he pours a thin line of wax along the young man's spine. “Forget your cock,” he orders again. “Allow yourself to feel with your mind. Surrender to the burn.” 

_ How can I forget my cock when it is throbbing against your damn device?  _ He thinks letting out another cry. The wax is hurting more this time and he wants to move himself up in a more central position. He shifts his body a bit trying to ease the pain with the movement.  

“Move again and I will put you in chains,” the count threatens as he places his boot onto Nico's left hand, enough to cause him to cry out in shock. 

“Are you willing to surrender yet?” This time he lowers his hand a little more to increase the temperature of the burn ever so slightly. 

Nico forces himself to stay still this time despite the burn. “Bastard son of a bitch,” the youngster cries not even realising what he has said until it is too late. “I am sorry Your Grace,” Nico stammers quickly.  

Riario reaches down with his free hand and yanks Nico's head up by his hair. “You are testing my patience, you godforsaken devil's child!” he spits. “Do you know the Lord's prayer, you heathen? 

“Yes, of course I do.”  Nico answers in a grimace as his hair is pulled.  _ I may not believe all the teachings of the church, _ he adds, but is sensible enough to not say this. “Your Grace,” the blonde youngster adds as Riario gives another sharp tug. 

“Then say it!” Riario snaps, letting go of Nico's hair again as he pours more hot wax on his lower back. 

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come. thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven _.”_ Nico stops as Riario pours more down his back towards his intimate area.

“Do not falter!” the count reprimands the brief pause. He drips the hot wax onto Nico's sensitive bare buttocks now, watching him twitch as the skin glows red around the white droplets. 

_ “ _ Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our sins, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And do not bring us to the time of trial, but rescue us from the evil one,” Nico finishes quickly letting out a little cry as he feels the heat in his buttocks, as the wax clings to his flesh. As Riario continues to pour the wax onto his skin, he can feel the sting more as it mixes in with fresh cuts.  

“Beg me to stop,” Riario smirks as Nico squirms under him. 

“Please, Your Grace please stop,” Nico pleads, as another drop drips onto his sore skin. His body feels so tired by this point and he is not beyond the point of begging. “Please, please,” he says again as he can feel his eyes water a little. “No more.”  

_ How is this happening?  _ Nico asks himself. He can feel his balls tighten. His breath gets heavy and he grunts as pleasure clouds over his mind as the pain gives way. His cheeks flush bright red as he can feel a wave of delight course through him. He begins to buck his hips as he feels like he's orgasming, but as quick as the sensation comes it goes. He looks down at his caged cock unsurely.   

Riario instantly pulls the dripping candle away as soon as he sees the telltale flush appear in blotches across the young man's back and neck. He places it back in the candelabra. He picks up a bucket of cold water and without warning pours it out over Nico's back, almost hearing his skin sizzle under the sudden change of temperature. “Enough?” he asks briskly.  

Nico nods. “Yes.” His body feels at breaking point. He stays on the ground, taking deep breaths trying to get his composure again.   

“Good,” Riario smiles as he puts the bucket down on the floor. “Then get up.” 

Nico does as he is told letting out a grimace as he gets to his feet. He looks Riario in the eyes. “May I have a drink, Your Grace?”  he asks realising how hoarse his throats is from his cries.   

Girolamo silently pours a glass of wine and holds it out to Nico, studying his handsome features. “Do you feel alive, Nico?” he says softly. 

Nico takes a mouthful from the glass, feeling relieved to moisten his mouth. He thinks about Riario's question. “Yes, despite the pain I feel more alive than I ever have before. And parts of me ache that I didn't know could ache.” He takes another large mouthful. “Do you feel alive doing that?” he asks.   

Girolamo begins to laugh softly. No-one has ever dared ask him such a question. “Yes. I feel fantastic,” he admits to his own surprise. Somehow he feels comfortable enough with Nico to share his darkest feelings and desires too. “You see,” he takes a sip from his own glass, “God is cruel too. He chastises us when we are disobedient. He punishes us for our flaws. I feel as close to understanding God’s Will as I can when He enables me to be His executioner.”  

Nico looks at the count in surprise at his own admission.  _ So he believes he is punishing me for God!  _

“But He is cruel to be kind,” Girolamo strokes Nico's cut cheek gently, his eyes softer now. “Did you find pleasure through the pain, Niccolo? Did you experience His love as you denied the Devil,” he motions to Nico's chastity cage, “and embraced a different kind of love and enlightenment?” 

Nico thinks about that question.  _ Is that what I felt?? How I was still able to feel so much pleasure through the pain.  _ He looks into Riario's almost caring eyes now as the man continues to stroke his face. “I managed to forget my cock for a while as you put it, earlier, I still felt pleasure, but a different type of pleasure, but I…I still managed to sort of climax,” the younger man admits biting his lip.  

Riario nods in satisfaction. “You are an exemplary student.” He puts down his glass and goes to unlock Nico's intimate prison.  

“Can… can I keep it on?” the younger man asks, surprising himself further. “I like the feeling it gives me.” Nico admits looking down at the device, as it cages his shaft. He had hated the weighty, punching feeling of the device to start with but now almost likes it, likes how it makes him feel. “It will remind me of you.”  

The count grins. His subject has passed his first lesson even better than anticipated. “Yes,” he nods but puts the key to the device around his own neck, along with the key that Da Vinci is seeking. “So you will come back,” he winks. 

Nico wonders if he should have made more effort to get the key. But knows even if he had tried he would not have been successful. Riario has a power over him that no one else has, he feels drawn to the man like he belongs at his feet. “Are you letting me go?” he asks, feeling disappointed that their time may have come to an end, at least for now anyway.  

“Get dressed,” the count hands Nico his clothes, not answering that question just yet. 

Nico does as he is told. His body is beginning to slow down as injuries start to hinder him. He lets out a grimace every now and again but after a minute or so he is fully clothed. W _ hy am I not overjoyed that he seems to be letting me go? Because you enjoy what Riario does to you how he makes you feel. _ Nico thinks answering his own question. The sensible side of his brain is telling him to get as far away as possible from the count but the other side of his brain and his heart are telling him, he belongs here, with Riario.  

Riario looks at Nico for a few moments, at the angry gashes on his cheeks. He regrets those now as he knows that Da Vinci will interrogate his apprentice because of them.  _ You got carried away _ , he reprimands himself, making a mental note to next time be more discreet about the injuries he'll inflict on his submissive.  

He grabs his dagger and sheathes it on his belt. Then he turns back to Nico and grabs his face between his hands. The boy flinches, expecting more punishment. But Girolamo smiles and then presses his lips on the younger man’s.  

Nico is shocked at the tender kiss from the older man, after the events of the day. He can feel himself melting into his soft lips and closes his eyes to enjoy the intimate moment between them. He wants to get lost in this moment forever, and forget that they are meant to be foes.  

“I will take you to the bridge,” Girolamo breaks the kiss. “If you get to Da Vinci before I do, don't you dare say a word about any of this,” he falls back into his normal character, “or I will make you regret it and not in the way you desire.” He grabs Nico's shoulder hard. “Do you understand?” 

“I won't mention anything to Leo,” Nico promises, trying to think how he is going to explain his visible cuts to his master. “When will I see you again?” he asks, biting his lip.  _ I do not want to go.  _ The blonde thinks sadly.  

Riario smirks at the young man who is beginning to sound like a desperate wife now. “I will send note when I desire your presence. You know where to find me,” he laughs.  

Nico lets out a disappointed sigh. “Yes, Your Grace,” he hopes he will not have to wait long for their next session _.  _ Despite his sore body and wounds, he feels he has learnt more about himself in the last three hours than Leonardo had ever taught him.  _ I hope both him and Zo are okay, _ he thinks for the first time since he had set eyes on the handsome count.      
  



	2. Romans 5:3-5

“Nico!” Leonardo exclaims as he sees his apprentice stumble towards them. “Thank God you're alright!” But then as he gets closer, “What happened?! Are you okay?!” He catches Nico in his arms as the youngster’s legs give way.

 _I am fantastic! I feel alive!_ Nico thinks but knows he can't say this. “I am okay, Maestro, I escaped,” he says closing his eyes as he begins to feel the drain of his activities on his body.  

Leonardo traces the cuts in Nico's cheeks, frowning. “Who did this to you?” he asks, both knowing and dreading the answer.

Nico thinks of the count’s warning. _I can still say it's him, just not say what else we did_. He has to stop a smile spreading across his face as he thinks of Riario. Despite feeling weak he also feels happier than he has been in a long time. “Count Riario, he wanted information on you,” the blonde youngster says weakly. “I did not give it to him.”

“I'll fucking kill him!” Zo shouts, hand on his hilt.

But Leonardo grabs his sleeve and yanks his hand down. “Don't be stupid. We only just escaped from breaking into the Vatican. The entire Swiss Guard are looking for us. We need to get out of Rome NOW!”

“Yes we need to leave,” Nico agrees, getting to his feet. _Should I tell them Riario has the key?_ he wonders but knows he cannot do that to Riario, he cannot betray his trust. When Zo still seems to want to fight his way through the city, he grabs hold of his arm. “Help me run, I feel a little weak.”  

“What about the key?” Zo protests, annoyed that Leo had put them through all that only to leave empty handed.

But Leonardo shakes his head. “It wasn't in the Vaults. That can only mean one thing…”

“It's obviously not here,” Nico says quickly averting his eyes from his friends. “Let's just get some distance away from here then think it through.” He grabs Leonardo’s arm also. “Please.”  

“Alright,” the engineer nods, understanding that Nico is shaken and hurt and he needs to clean those cuts although they don't appear to be as deep as he had first thought. “Let's go then. Riario won't go anywhere. After all,” he smirks, “he only has one half of the key too.”

_+++ back in Florence +++_

Nico sits on a wooden chair with a little knife in his hand. He runs it through his fingers and presses a little into his hand. He lets out a little hiss, as it starts to bleed a little. _It's not the same as when Riario does it._ He thinks disappointedly. It had been six weeks since his encounter with the handsome count, and he had thought of nothing else. _Why hasn't he called for me? Has he forgotten me? What if I am stuck with this metal cage on forever?_

Leonardo is going on about some sort of invention and while he normally finds his work fascinating he had been finding it hard to concentrate of late.

“Sorry what was that maestro?” the blonde youngster asks when Leo looks directly at him.   

“Nico,” Leonardo frowns as he puts down the drawing, “what happened in Rome?”

“Nothing happened, as I said I lost you and bumped into count Riario. Why?” Nico lies looking at his freshly cut hand. He wonders what Riario is doing now. _Is he thinking of me? Does he miss me?_

“That's bull crap, Nico,” Leonardo stares hard at him. “You've had worse scratches from our sparring than those on your cheeks,” he snorts thinking about what an appalling swordsman the lean boy has always been. “Even the torture of your hand previously didn't spook you this much. But you've been this drawn into yourself ever since you _bumped into_ Count Riario. Something else happened. Something you're not telling me.” He crosses his arms waiting for his apprentice to explain.

“Nothing happened alright,” Nico snaps, getting up from his chair. “I am fine. Maybe I have just grown to learn how little you have actually taught me,” he bites, thinking on Riario's words. “What have you taught me exactly? If you and Zo had not left me there I would not even have run into Riario.”  

“W-what?!” Leonardo blinks at this outburst. He grabs Nico's wrist as he tries to walk past him and turns his hand over roughly. “Did you just cut yourself?!”

“What if I have?” Nico snaps trying to pull his hand free however Leonardo tightens his grip on his wrist as Nico struggles. “Let me go.” e

Leo releases his grip but gets to his feet. “Nico,” he tries to sound both like a friend and an elder, “I'm worried about you. Did the count do something else to you? I mean, to your mind?” he decides to give voice to his concerns.

At this Nico snorts. He takes a deep breath, realising he needs to keep his emotions in check. “No. He just cut my cheeks,” _and showed me pleasure I have never known before._ “All he did was question me about you.”

Leonardo knows Nico is lying and he decides to drop his attempt at getting to the truth nicely. He pulls a letter with the Vatican seal out of his pocket and forces Nico against the wall, holding the letter in front of his face. “Since you won't talk, perhaps I should open this letter and find out for myself what's going on!” he growls. “If you're spying for Riario…!”

Nico feels like he has been kicked in the stomach at his master's words. “Do you really think I would do that?” Anger rises up inside at Leonardo’s accusation. “That is my letter and you have no right to withhold it from me.” He reaches for the letter only for Leonardo to move it out of reach. “I would not do that to you, you are like a brother.”

“Yes!” Da Vinci argues back. “You _are_ like a little brother to me and Riario is dangerous! Dammit Nico, you have no idea! He got Lucrezia to spy on me so why not you? The man knows exactly how to find someone's weakness and work it to his advantage!”

 _Is that what Riario is doing?_ Nico’s thoughts go around in his head. “I would never do that to you, you can trust me.”

Leonardo looks closely at Nico, genuinely worried. But cannot force his friend to talk. “Then tell me what's in the letter,” he says, handing it to Nico.

Nico nods hoping that count Riario has been discreet. He breaks the seal, and opens the letter with shaking hands. When he folds it out he frowns as he looks at a sketch of an angel with shackles around his wrists and ankles, and wavy locks with his face in his arms. _It's me!_ the blonde smiles. He studies the picture trying to find a clue as to what that means for meeting the count but to his disappointment he finds nothing. He is about to throw it in a corner when we sees the tiny marks on the inside of the envelope indicating the hour of ten five nights hence. _Clever._ A nervous excitement fizzles in his belly. “It is nothing.” The youngster says handing Leonardo the sketch so he can study it for myself to see there is nothing there. He throws the envelope into the hearth.

Leonardo’s frown only deepens. _A drawing? Riario sends a drawing to Nico?_ Of course it's only an assumption that it has come from the count, but who else in the Vatican would be crazy enough to do something like that? “Why?” he asks suspiciously. “Why has he sent you that?”

“Who sent me this?” Nico asks playing the fool. “It's just a picture, relax.” He can see that his friend is not convinced and shoves the letter in his pocket, out of sight before Leonardo can look at the picture any longer.  

Leonardo can feel his temper rise. Right now he's not even sure what is upsetting him more; the fact that Nico is obviously hiding something from him, whether he truly believes that he is spying for Riario -that he can scarcely believe- or even what he is just feeling put out because the count seems to have taken an interest in Nico one way or another. _Am I jealous of his attention?_ _Am I that obsessed with Count Riario that I want his attention to be solely focused on me?_  

He huffs and without another word he walks off.

+++

 _I am late._ Nico panics as he approaches the bridge where the count had left him. His cloak is pulled up close around him so no one can identify who he is. _I hope Leonardo or Zo did not follow me._ The younger man looks behind him, but the night is quiet and no one else seems to be around.

His eyes are pricked for the slightest sound of movement, his hand constantly on the small dagger he had ‘borrowed’ from Leonardo.

As Nico approaches his destination he frowns when the count isn't there. _Am I too late?_ The youngster questions looking around.   

“Niccolo Machiavelli.” Two men dressed in the sober black of the Vatican guard step out of the shadows and grab him by each arm. “You have been summoned by His Grace, Lord Riario of Imola.”

“You've kept him waiting,” the other man hisses in Nico's ear as they march him towards the gate. “Lord Riario does not like that.”

Nico swallows, the guards walk him through the marble gate way. He tries to turn his head to take in his surroundings, in case he ever has to find his way out of the Vatican. However the guards are too quick and half drag him along, so he is unable to take in the grandeur of the walled city. He can feel his heartbeat quicken and a nervous sweat come over him the further they walk.

Neither of the guards say another word until they come to a plain wooden door in contrast to the elaborately decorated interior of the halls he'd been dragged through. The bigger of the two guards steps forward, still keeping a firm grip on Nico's arm and knocks at the door.  

“Enter,” the familiar gravelly voice of the count calls out. A moment later Nico is pushed inside and to his knees and he finds himself staring at the highly polished boots of his _host_.

“Your Grace,” the two men bow before quickly scuttling away, leaving Nico alone with the papal nephew.

Nico dares not move, he looks up into his handsome count’s face. “I am sorry I am late, Your Grace,” the blonde man apologises as he can see the annoyance in his eyes, and bows his head in submission.

Riario stares down on Nico for a few long moments. In truth he is pleased that Nico had worked out the instruction and that he is here. But that is not nearly good enough. And so he turns around and walks back to his dining table, sits himself down and begins to eat the remains of his dinner.

Nico looks up as he sits in the centre of the room on his hands and knees. His face turns into a frown, as Riario seems to slow down. _Hurry up!_ The younger man thinks. He opens his mouth to say this then closes it again. _He's ignoring me like I am a naughty child,_ Nico realises and cannot help the frown turn into a scowl, as his cheeks colour. “I lost my way which delayed me.”   

“Silence!” Riario says loudly without looking at the boy. “You do not speak unless you're spoken to.” He slowly continues to chew the meat, dabbing the napkin against his chin.

Eventually he decides to address his visitor. “Pour me some wine,” he orders, motioning to the carafe on the other side of the table.

 _I am the son of an attorney, apprentice to the great Leonardo Da Vinci, not some servant boy!_ “I am not your servant, Your Grace.” Nico replies coolly, however does stand up.

Riario grins to himself. He's pleased with that answer. Nico's spirit is what makes him interesting and to have him submit without a fight would be awfully dull. 

“Indeed you are not,” he finally raises his eyes to meet Nico's. “Nonetheless, I'm thirsty and,” he pulls the key from under his tunic, “if you want me to help you, you serve me.”

At this Nico can feel the spark of arousal flare up inside him. He grabs hold of the jug and pours his master a generous amount of red wine. “May I pour myself some too, Your Grace?” he asks noticing a second glass on the table.

Riario nods, content that Nico politely asks his permission.

“Come here,” he beckons once Nico has poured the drinks. “Let me see your face.”

Nico brings the drinks over placing them both on the table in front of Riario. He kneels in front of the count looking up into his deep brown eyes. He knows better than to take the chair beside him.

The count grabs Nico's chin and twists his head from side to side. The wounds he'd inflicted have healed well and he's relieved that he has not damaged the handsome boy too badly in his excitement. Yet he's pleased that the thin silvery lines have left a mark of his ownership. “You are very handsome,” he whispers lustfully. “Did you like the sketch I sent you?”

At these words a blush creeps up Nico's neck. “Thank you, I did. You are beautiful too, master.” The word leaves his mouth before he can even think about it and his face gets even more coloured.

 _Master…_ Riario raises an eyebrow, but strokes Nico's cheek affectionately. _I like that._ “What did you say to Da Vinci?” he decides not to respond to that comment just yet. “About your scars. About why you are here again, knelt before me?” he smiles wickedly.

“I told him a part truth as I am a poor liar,” Nico admits enjoying the tenderness of the count as he inspects his handy work. “I told him I had a run in with you.” He hopes the count won't be angry that he revealed that much about their last encounter. “He does not know I am here now; I left in the night.”  

Riario's grin widens. He rises to his feet, wiping his hands on his serviette. “Get up,” he orders Nico as well. “Undress.”

Nico does as he is told, removing first his tunic then his trousers and undergarments. _I wonder if I will ever see him naked?_ He watches as the count walks around him inspecting his body. Apart from the odd mark, he had healed nicely. His hands automatically go down to cover his metal cage, as he shifts a little nervously.   

“Beautiful,” Riario whispers as he traces his index finger along the mark across the top of Nico's back, which is still a little red. The boy shivers slightly under the touch of his cold finger. “I like to mark you,” he presses his lips against the top of Nico's shoulder.

Nico let's out a little moan as he can feel his master's lips against his scars. “I like your marks.” Nico admits as the count’s lips move to another scar. _I like the way you make me feel he thinks._ He can feel heat in his skin as his arousal begins to stir.  

The count steps to face Nico and bends down to unlock the silver jewel. “Clean yourself,” he nods to the basin in the corner of the room.

Nico looks down at his cock. It feels odd to see it without its prison. He feels almost more naked without the device reminding him of the count. He walks over to the little basin grabbing a jug from a nearby side table. He pours it into the sink grabbing a cloth, hastily washing his privates.

Riario watches the proceedings. “Again,” he orders handing Nico a fresh jug. “You filthy boy,” he adds with disgust.

Nico can feel his cock twitch at the count's words. _How can one sentence make me so turned on_? The youngster quickly turns back to the sink trying to hide his growing sin from view of his master, breathing deeply.

“Again!” the count shouts when Nico turns around for the second time. “Not nearly good enough! Scrub, you heathen!” he grabs Nico's wrist, making the motion he wishes to see.

Nico accepts a third jug of water, this time he scrubs far more viciously at his privates. He cannot help but let out a little hiss as he attacks his cock and balls until they are bright red and feel a little tender to the touch.  

“Bene, mio angelo,” Riario praises this time. He slowly unfastens his tunic, revealing his toned torso, contrasting starkly against the perfect black of his trousers.

He looks Nico up and down. He desires to put the chastity lock back, but he knows that having had the boy caged for so long before was reckless and could have injured him or caused infection. So he averts his eyes. For now.  

“You are beautiful, Your Grace,” Nico gasps looking at the count’s toned chest. He can feel his cock start to harden and takes a couple of deep breaths. _Don't think with your cock, don't think with your cock._ The younger man repeats in his head. He brings his fingers up to his chest and then hesitates, looking up at Riario with pleading eyes. “Can I touch?”

Riario hesitates. He does not want Nico tempting him like that and yet he feels flattered. Besides the boy has been good and obedient. “Yes,” he croaks, taking a step forward within Nico's reach.  

Nico brings his hands up to the count’s pecks. He is slow and unsure to start with as he nervously runs his long fingers along his collarbone. He can feel the heat between them and blood flow to his nether regions.

The apprentice gets more daring the longer he continues and brings his other hand up also, feeling the warm flesh of the older man. He has butterflies in his stomach. The longer he touches the more he yearns with want and need.

Count Riario murmurs appreciatively as those gentle fingers explore him. No-one has ever touched him like that, with such attention and reverence and he sighs at the pleasant sensation.

But the moment he feels Nico's excitement rub against him he jolts back. “Judas!” he growls. “I allow you this and you insult.”

Nico looks at the count confused. “But you said I was allowed to touch,” Nico replies softly. He looks into Riario’s fuming eyes and a little of his former fear returns.

“I…. I am sorry Your Grace.” Nico says moving his eyes to look at the wood in the floor as shame creeps up on him, as he realises his mistake.   

“You disgust me!” the count spits.  He raises his hand and smacks Nico hard across the face. “You seek to tempt me,” he heaves, putting his hands around Nico's throat. “You think you'll get away with your wicked ways like your maestro did?”  

Nico gasps. Panic kicks in as he grabs at the count's fingers. “I…. I  am sorry,” he manages to gasp, as he struggles with the older man's fingers, then the rest of what Riario had said sinks in. “Please, I can't breathe,” he swallows trying to get in air.   

The count pushes Nico against the wall, squeezing harder still. “You mock me,” he hisses. “Have you no respect displaying yourself like that in the House of God?!” His fingers press on that sleek throat until the blonde boy’s eyes start to roll back.

He instantly releases his choke hold and grabs Nico into his arms as the younger man coughs and gasps for air. “Sssssh, it's alright, mio angelo,” he whispers into his ear. “I will help you. I will show you the path to salvation. I know. You must trust me.”   

 _How can I trust you? You just nearly strangled me._ Nico thinks but cannot help but rest his head on Riario's chest as he tries to catch his breath. _But he didn't, he stopped. If he had wanted to he could have._ “I am sorry,” Nico says again. “I did not mean to, Your Grace.” His body is shaking with shock.  

Riario brushes Nico's curls out of his face, kissing his temple, cradling him still. “I would never harm you, mio angelo,” he mutters. “Only help you. You must trust me, Niccolo. I will show you how to control the Devil within.”  

“I do trust you,” Nico realises, as his breathing gets back under control. “I…l want to learn how to please you, Master.” Nico admits enjoying the moment of closeness between them.

Count Riario holds Nico back a little. He carefully strokes his neck where the red imprints of his fingers still glow. “It felt good,” he whispers his sinful thoughts, “to do that. To hold you like that, knowing that I have your life pulsing between my fingers.” He runs his fingers slowly up Nico's neck again. “How did it feel for you, mio angelo?”

Nico thinks about this for a second. "I felt a little scared to start with,” the apprentice admits. “Then light headed, but also found it exhilarating at the same time. I could feel the adrenaline pumping around my body.”

Riario lightly brushes his lips over Nico's. “Yes,” he breathes softly.

He smiles and then turns back towards the table to grab the wine glasses they had abandoned.  

Nico gasps as he sees Riario's back. White scars spread across it from one side to the other, while some of the smaller ones just mark his shoulders. He reaches out tracing one of the larger ones with his finger. “Your Grace, how did you get these?”

Girolamo jolts at the sudden touch but then grins. “Do you really trust me?” he asks as he hands Nico his wine.

Nico takes a sip, before answering. He moves himself to look at the count's back again. “Yes, I do trust you, Your Grace,” he whispers, tracing another, slightly deeper scar, feeling the uneven skin beneath.

“Then I will show you,” Riario smiles. “Stay here.” He disappears through the door on the other side of the room.

Nico does as he’s told. He drains his glass of wine, all the while never taking his eyes from the door of the side chamber. _Is he going to do that to me?_ he wonders. Instead of a feeling of dread a feeling of nervous excitement comes over him.  

“Face the wall,” Riario orders as he returns.

Nico does as he is told, placing his hands against it also. The younger man takes a deep breath preparing himself for the unknown, finding this quite excites him.  

“Do you want me to mark you, as I am marked by the punishing hand of God?” Riario asks as he walks up to stand behind Nico.

“Yes, I would like you to mark me,” Nico replies, letting out a little moan. “Please, my maestro.” The younger man closes his eyes, holding his breath as he waits.  

Riario pulls back his arm and lets the lash come into contact with the skin of Nico's back.

Nico draws in a deep breath as the leather of the whip flicks across the top of his back. It is a momentary burning, stinging sensation, as soon as the feeling comes it goes just as quick.

Riario waits, watching Nico jolt under the lash and curiously studying the red marks that appear in Nico's flesh.

“How does it feel?” he asks huskily, feeling his own excitement grow inside his stomach.

“It burns. Not like the burn of the candle, but I can feel a sting from the different ends of the whip. I can feel them snagging into my skin.” He bites down on his lip as he feels his cock showing signs of arousal, but forces himself to focus on Riario's deep voice.  

“Brace,” Riario gives the briefest of warning, before he lets the whip down again, with slightly more force this time.

The apprentice listens to the flick of the whip as it is pulled back and finds his body twitches as he anticipates the next one, forcing himself not to move. This one is slightly harder, and leaves a sting in its wake. He can feel as it bites deeper into his skin. “Grazie, Maestro.”

The Captain feels encouraged by that response. Inflicting pain on Nico had felt incredibly good. However, knowing he welcomes it, truly begs for it, is exquisite.

His own adrenaline flows freely through his veins, pumping up his heart rate and making his breathing a little more rugged as he pulls the whip back again and then again, this time letting it come down on Nico's back in rapid succession. “ _Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you_ ,” he recites his prayers to Nico as he lashes him passionately. “ _But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed._ ”

As the whip comes down time after time, Nico can feel himself losing the war with his body. He tries to focus on Riario's voice, and on the pain, but his cock is fully hard now.

The pain is becoming harder to bear, each lash now feeling like they land on raw flesh, like he has no skin left on his back at all. He has lost count how many times Riario has let the whip come down. It feels like a hundred times already even though he knows it can only have been a handful.

But the odd thing is that whilst the pain intensifies, his arousal does as well. It's like each crack of the whip goes straight to his cock. Like the count’s hand is working him, indirectly but purposefully towards euphoria.

 _Do not lose control! Do not come! Calm down,_ he repeats to himself over and over. As he can feel his peak fast approaching and his breathing getting harder and raspier.

Of course Riario had noticed Nico's arousal but his own excitement is too great now to stop or even reprimand the youngster for it. _He's learning_ , he tells himself. _Remember how long it took you to surrender yourself to God and denounce the Devil's temptation?_ Indeed, even now it takes all his focus on the movement of the whip, of delivering exactly the right amount of force to cause the pain that Nico seeks but not so much that he'll pass out, all to keep his own body under control. The thrill of it all is making him feel light headed.

Nico can feel his excitement get the better of him, no matter how hard he tries to concentrate on the pain, to stop himself from losing it. But somehow it just feels so incredibly good. Unlike anything he's felt before. Like the count is caressing his very soul, making him feel alert and alive and completely at his mercy.

His mind has never been clearer, like someone has lifted a veil and is showing him things he had always been blind to. And his peak overwhelms him as he gives in to his feelings. He tries to hold off but finds the feelings of intense pleasure become too much. His cum surges down his shaft splattering the wall with his sin as he moans incoherently.

Riario shivers as he watches his submissive come undone under his ministrations. Whilst this is exactly the opposite of his intention, he cannot deny that it is beautifully erotic to watch the angelic boy shudder and moan as he lets himself go and he struggles against his own body too as desire clouds his mind.

He ceases the whip immediately.

Nico leans against the now soiled wall breathing deeply as he tries to calm himself down after his orgasm. _That was amazing, I did not know anything could feel that good._ He looks down at the mess he has made feeling his flush deepen, when he can see the evidence of how badly he had let go, after trying so hard to keep himself under control. “I am sorry, Your Grace.”  

Girolamo drops the whip and walks up to his subject, carefully taking him into his arms as they sink to the floor. “It's alright, my beloved,” he murmurs in Nico's ear as the boy crumbles in his arms. “ _We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame. Because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us,”_ he talks Nico through his fall back down to earth.

Nico listens to Riario's soothing words, hanging onto every one as if it is poetry. _He's not angry_ , he thinks relieved as he leans his face against the count’s chest listening to his heart beat. “I did try to hold off, honestly I did,” he whispers when the older man has finished, feeling ashamed of his body's ungodly reaction, wishing for Riario to put back on the silvered jewel around his cock so he can keep control of his sinful body.

“It takes practice. Many many years of practice,” Riario smiles into Nico's flushed face. “The Devil's temptation is strong. But you have the strength, Niccolo. And I will guide you.” He presses his lips to Nico's sweaty brow.

Nico finds himself calming at the kind gesture from his master. He leans his face towards Riario’s in a bold move and brushes their lips together in a brief kiss. “Thank you, Your Grace. How long did it take you, to learn to control it?”  

The count draws in a sharp breath at the unexpected personal question. Anyone else daring to ask him that would not live to take another breath. But Nico… _I trust him as he trusts me_. “I… don't remember. But I had no-one to guide me but God,” he admits that he does truly understand Nico's experience.

Nico thinks about this for a second. _That must have been so difficult_. He realises suddenly how lucky he is to have Riario to help him through his lust and sinful desires. “Thank you for guiding me, Maestro.” He places another gentle kiss to the count’s lips.  

Girolamo answers the kiss tentatively. He's never allowed another to come this close and it frightens him more than knives and whips. “Thank you too, il mio sottomesso, for trusting me.”

Nico is surprised at how happy he is to hear these words. _I am his,_ he realises. Instead of the fear he knows he would have had a moon ago, at hearing this now his heart is overcome with a sense of joy and belonging. “I am your sottomesso, and you are my Dominus now,” he confirms, feeling his loyalties starting to change.  

Riario considers this and nods in agreement. “Come, let me tend to your back.” He gets up and holds out his hand.

Nico smiles up Riario. He enjoys seeing this more human side to the count, the side that no one else sees, and accepts the hand allowing Riario to help guide him to his feet, feeling a little weak from the whipping but more alive than he has ever felt before in his life. The more pain the count seems to give him, the more exhilarated he becomes. “I feel fantastic,” the blonde man admits.  

“Excellent,” Riario grins as he pours some fresh water into the basin and carefully dabs at Nico's back, drawing hisses from his lips. “The cuts are not deep,” he states, “but you may choose to sleep on your front for a day or so.”

Nico wishes he could see the cuts for himself, suddenly having the urge to see where the count had marked him. “Have you got a mirror, Your Grace?”  

Riario hesitates but then nods slowly. “Follow me,” he says as he walks into the adjacent room again.

Nico follows the count through the side door he had entered earlier. He looks around the room. Riario's sleeping quarters are fairly simple considering the grandeur of the Vatican. The only thing that really catches his eye is a dresser in the corner which has been left slightly open. Nico walks over to it inspecting it more closely. Only now can he see the contents; all different types of whips some of a simple leather design and one tail to it, others have multiple ends designed for maximum impact and pain, while others have elaborate details to the handles, and patterns that weave into the tail designed to leave an imprint on the skin. “Do you use all these?”  

Riario flushes as Nico eyes the items in his dresser. “I have,” he says coolly. “Some items are for work,” he smirks as he opens another door in the cupboard and brings out an instrument Nico is all too familiar with.

The last time the blond-haired man had seen this, he had been too fearful to actually look at it properly. He examines the outside of the black box taking in the detail of the elaborate swirls on the side and the widow herself. “It's actually quite an artwork,” Nico realises voicing his opinion out loud.  

“Yes,” Riario smiles, feeling a little pride in his collection as Nico examines it. He pulls open another drawer, picking up a leather strap with two forked prongs attached to it. “The Heretic’s Fork,” he says as he hands it to Nico. “From Paris.”  

Nico looks closer at the device finding it fascinating. “What do you do with it?” the apprentice asks, letting out a hiss as he touches one of the sharp ends.   

Riario moves Nico to the mirror, having him face into it as he stands behind him. He kisses the nape of his neck and then tilts the boy's head back firmly. “Hold very, very still,” he warns as he fastens the leather band around Nico's throat and then places the prongs so that one side rests on his throat and the other on the soft part under his chin. “How long do you think you could hold your head up?” he's whispers in his ear. “Before the weight of your own head drives these blades into your throat and into your mouth?” Even though he has no intention of using this on Nico, the demonstration and thought alone are enough to make his adrenaline surge again.

Nico swallows, feeling excitement course through him at the count's words. His head feels ten times heavier than normal as he is forced to hold it higher than it would normally sit. He can feel the tips of the prongs scrape his flesh not enough to cause it to break, but enough to make him weary not to make any sudden movements. “I already feel my head wanting to move.” He admits, swallowing awkwardly, feeling his breathing get heavier also. Even the movement of his jaw as he says those few words push the prongs more into his flesh and he can only imagine what it would be like to be tortured and ultimately killed this way. “Have you used this on many people?” he whispers trying not to move. _I am lucky he only used the Tear on me._

Riario frowns as he releases the device. “That's none of your business,” he says coldly.

“Sorry, Your Grace,” Nico apologises moving his head around. _Do not ask too many questions,_ he scolds himself.

The apprentice turns his body so he has a view of his sore back, still hot from the strokes. They litter across his whole back, some are just surface wounds that have left a red stripe on the flesh, where others he can tell will scar as they are bleeding still and are swollen. “Thank you for decorating me.”  

“They suit you,” Riario kisses his lips again and then admires his work over Nico's shoulder.

He lets Nico go and pulls a tunic out of another cupboard, putting it on. “Get dressed,” he orders.

Nico returns to the dining room, picking up his tunic from the floor. He hisses as he pulls it over his head and freshly marked back. He feels saddened at the thought of leaving the count's presence and returning back to Florence. He picks up his bottoms and his eyes move to the metal prison. “Did you want me to wear the cage, Your Grace?” he asks returning to the sleeping area.

“Not tonight,” the count shakes his head. “Your body needs to rest. And you need to learn to control your urges without it.” He looks as immaculate and pious as always now without any trace of their erotic play.

Nico hastily pulls on his under garments and slacks suddenly feeling vulnerable and uncomfortable in his naked form. Once he is dressed he waits in the middle of the room unsure of his role now he is dressed. “Would you like some wine, Dominus?” Nico asks, looking at the table. 

“Yes thank you,” Riario smiles as he sits himself back down in his chair. He places a black leather bound Bible on the table in front of him.

Nico pours the handsome count a large glass of the drink then hesitates before pouring himself a glass also. He kneels in front of the count on the floor and leans his head into his lap.

Riario looks down in surprise but then rests his free hand on Nico's head and strokes through his curls. “You were a good boy tonight,” he murmurs. “And you will learn to be even better.”

Nico finds himself relaxing further under Riario's fingers, and closes his eyes feeling content. “I like being a good boy for you,” Nico admits, feeling a warm feeling to his stomach at the count's praise. “I like being here with you, can I stay?”

“Of course,” Girolamo sips his wine. “You cannot ride back like that. I will finish my wine and then I'll show you your room.” He picks up the Bible and gives it to Nico. “And I want you to have this.”

Nico accepts the leather bible, giving Riario a little smile. “Thank you.” It had been a while since he had read the Bible; Leonardo did not own one. “I shall cherish it.”  

“As I cherish you, mio angelo,” Riario sighs contently. Tonight, had turned out rather as well as he had hoped it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> il mio sottomesso - my submissive, my subject
> 
> Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed. Peter 4:12-19 
> 
> We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame. Because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. Romans 5:3-5


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, we enjoy your feedback, your comments and your kudos. Please leave us some encouragement!
> 
> A huge thank you to Delorita, for being our beta and our guest writer as Leonardo da Vinci

Nico wakes suddenly, his eyes flicking open as he sits himself up on the wooden bed, letting out a hiss as his wounds are pulled by the sudden movement. He looks around the room, feeling momentarily confused until he remembers where he is.

He wonders what had awoken him. But then he hears shouting and running through the hall outside the guest room he is staying in. _What the hell is going on?_ The young man quickly gets out of bed and looks around the room for something to use as a weapon in case he has to fight his way out of the Vatican. He picks up a jug off his night stand draining it of its contents. _At least it might knock someone out_ , he thinks, looking around to see if he can find anything else. But as the shouting gets louder he decides this will have to do and rushes to the hall.

He can tell the commotion is coming from Riario’s room and rushes the little distance down the corridor to his door. He doesn't even hesitate and throws it open, causing it to crash against the wall.

“As you can see for yourself,” Riario smirks at his unwanted visitors who are being held back by his guards, “Nico is still alive and kicking.”

“You fucking... !” Leonardo splutters and pushes against the three men that are holding him back, much to his dismay. He’s overjoyed as he sees Nico appear unharmed in the doorway, but still wants to strangle the count to get the truth out of him, “How dare you kidnap him?!” he yells in his blind fury.

“Leave us,” Riario dismisses his guards with a flick of his hand. He can see that they hesitate for a moment to leave him with two if not three attackers, but none of them dare question a direct instruction from the count and so they reluctantly let Leonardo and Zo go.

Zoroaster does not hesitate and the moment his arms are free he launches himself at the count.

“Leave him alone!” Nico yells, jumping in the way of Zo as he charges towards his count, reminding him of a raging bull. “Don't you dare hurt him.”

Zo stops his tracks, not necessarily obeying Nico's order but rather because he's utterly stunned. “You what?!” he spits at Nico, his hands quivering an inch away from Riario's tunic.

Nico pushes his friend back. “I said leave him alone.”

Leo is just as surprised as Zo, almost feeling his mouth fall open at Nico coming to the count’s aid. His words are stuck in his throat and he only frowns and looks at the Captain General questioningly.

“Breakfast for three then?” Riario grins. “And a bowl for the dog,” he adds underhand, turning his back on Zo purposefully, demonstrating that he does not fear him and that he trusts Nico to watch his back.

Nico can feel his chest heave as he does not take his eyes of Zo who is turning an unhealthy shade of red. “How did you both know I was here?” the blond youngster asks Leonardo, still not moving his glare as he knows Zoroaster's temper well enough.

Da Vinci slightly shakes his head. “You left in the middle of the night,” he straightens up, still staring at Riario, “and with the way you behaved lately after you _bumped_ into him, the conversation we had had just before you disappeared … Doesn’t take a genius to figures out where you could have gone,” Leonardo states the obvious.

“What did he do to you?” Zo turns his attention to Nico, grabbing him by the shoulders.

The flash of steel is quicker than Zo's reflexes as he finds himself with Riario's sword against his throat almost as soon as his hands touch Nico's shoulder.  “Let go immediately,” the count hisses icily.

Leonardo thinks about mirroring that same action, but thinks the better of it since that would get them nowhere, “Zo,” he says, calmly, “stop it. Let Nico explain,” he orders his friend, ignoring Riario for the moment. His senses are alert though, his hand hovering over the handle of his sword. No harm will come to Zo, ever; not under his watch.

Nico jumps to his count’s side as soon as Zo lets go, feeling protective over him. “Both of you calm down,” he orders looking from Zo to Leo. “You had no right to follow me here,” he snaps angrily. _They will spoil everything!_

Zo huffs, rubbing his throat when Riario lowers his blade. He doesn't really understand why between the three of them they don't just kill that bastard, but as Nico seems to be under some kind of spell perhaps they need the count alive -for now- to break it. “Why are you here?” he growls at Nico. “Why are you standing up for him when he's holding you captive? Has he cursed you?”

“I am not his captive; I want to be here,” Nico tries to explain as he begins to calm down a little. “And he certainly has not cursed me, he is helping me. Let's just all calm down a second.” Nico can feel his loyalties being tested as the other three men glare at each other.

“I'm not keeping Nico here against his will,” Girolamo confirms, giving Nico a curt smile. “To prove it to you,” he addresses Leonardo, “I will leave the three of you to discuss. If Nico wants to return to Florence with you, he's free to do so. I will ensure your safe journey back,” he even adds as he sheaths his sword. He turns to Nico and briefly brushes his cheek with the back of his fingers. Then without another word he leaves the room, leaving the door unlocked behind him.

 _Did he just caress Nico’s face?_ Leonardo blinks quickly as if to test if his eyesight is altered. _I will ensure your safe journey back._ He also thinks there must be something wrong with his hearing. His thoughts whirl over every possibility that could be responsible for this scenario. “Nico?” is all that comes out of his suddenly dry mouth when he glances in the young man’s direction.

Nico watches the door, suddenly wishing Riario had stayed. His eyes turn to the other two who just look at him confused. “Count Riario would never harm me,” he states, taking a chair by the table.

“But he has before,” Leonardo sits himself opposite his apprentice and stares at him hard, trying to figure out by looking at him only what had occurred between the two - _former?_ -enemies. “Did he just stroke your cheek?” Da Vinci decides to take on the problem head-on, without beating around the bush. It’s not that he has anything against Nico being with another man - of course not, he and Zo have been a couple for years - but _Count_ _Riario?!_

 _“_ Yes, yes, he did stroke my cheek,” Nico admits, biting his lip. He looks into Leonardo’s eyes, ignoring Zo for the moment as he still looks like he wants to hit something. _If I can get Leo to just understand that I need Riario like he needs me._ “I care for him, and he cares for me.”

“You… he… _What?”_ the engineer exchanges a quick look with Zoroaster, who looks just as stunned, and tries to sort his words once more. Too many questions want to come out of his mouth all at once. “How the fuck did that happen? You hated him more than I do!”

“He makes me feel alive,” Nico admits reaching for his drink. “He understands my desires, my needs.” The blonde tries to explain. “When I am with Count Riario I feel a different type of pleasure that I have never felt before. I need him, almost as much as I need something as important as oxygen or water.” He can see by the two other men's faces that they think he's mad. “I am not crazy.”

“No, not crazy at all, sounds perfectly sane to me,” Zoroaster snorts. He bends himself closer to Nico, poking him in the chest. “What do you mean by _pleasure_? Sounds like you're screwing him,” he laughs.

“And what if I am?” Nico replies, his face turning scarlet But he does not lower his gaze from Zoroaster’s face. He will not feel ashamed of what him and Riario have.  

“WHAT?!” Zo chokes. “You… him… what?!” He looks to Leo for help as surely either his or Nico's sanity has taken a serious blow.

“Anyway, we’re not,” Nico hastily adds, thinking that Girolamo will not appreciate him putting his reputation on the line like that with a lie. “Not like that anyway. It’s … different. Special.”

“Nicoooo?” Leonardo feels all at once hurt, angry, jealous… _Am I jealous? No, not in that way but in SOME way…_ “Nico, why? What have we done to you that you suddenly change sides?” Da Vinci jumps up and paces the room now, doubting all the efforts he had put into making Nico his apprentice over the last decade. Then he frowns; had he done enough?

“It is not about sides,” Nico growls, feeling his temper rise. “He teaches me about myself and cares for my eternal soul. He wants to save me.”  

“Save you?!” Zo looks at this friend in exasperation. “Save you from what?!”

“From myself,” Nico snaps. “From my sins.” 

Leonardo strokes his beard in a manner to calm himself down and make his brain work. He sits down again and takes a sip of Nico’s drink. “From your sins?” he repeats. “Which would be?” It very slowly dawns on him what this may be about, but he needs more evidence before jumping to any sort of conclusion.

At this Nico becomes quiet. _I... I do not want them to know,_ he decides, thinking about his fresh wounds. _If they cannot understand that I want to be with him, how will they understand_ that _?_

“This is ridiculous!” Zo shakes his head. “You're clearly being brainwashed by his preaching. I'm having none of this. You're coming home with us!” he states, deciding Nico clearly needs protecting from himself and he grabs the top of his arm and pushes against his back to move him out of this place.

Nico cries out as Zo pushes down on his wounds. “Let go of me! I want to stay here with my Dominus,” the youngster rages, trying to shake his arm free.

Leonardo slaps his hand on the table top at that, outraged. He’s very well aware of the cry of pain that slipped Nico’s mouth before that. “Show me your back,” he demands, stepping beside Zo. 

“No! That is none of your business. It is up to me what I do with my own body,” Nico snarls, as Zo keeps hold of him. “You cannot make me go with you. And if you do I will come back.”

“We cannot let you be indoctrinated. Now show me your damn back!” Leonardo’s anger gets the better of him, “Or where else he put his… marks!” He’d been to the whorehouse often enough back in the day to exactly know what _Dominus_ means. Not that he had tried that abnormal practice, but the walls are thin at Madam Singh’s establishment.

“Holy fuck,” Zo gasps as Leo lifts Nico's shirt up a little. “He did this to you?!” his mouth falls open in shock. “Nico…”

Da Vinci squeezes his eyes shut briefly in momentary shock. The medic in him winces, but he stays silent.

“I asked him to,” Nico admits, letting out a hiss as Leo runs his fingers along one of his cuts. “I wanted him to. I have never felt more alive than when he put his whip down on me,” he tries to explain only to see both his friends’ eyes widen in horror. “I am _his_.”

“You are not fucking _his!_ ” Zoroaster doesn't know whether to be angry or sad about what has happened to one of his best friends. “You're not a slave, you are a free man! And this, this is barbaric! Why would you ever let someone do that to you?” He lets go of Nico's arm and shakes his head, walking away, not able to take any of this madness in.

“I _want_ to be his. It makes me feels safe and wanted. I enjoy him doing this to me. It is exhilarating and feels fantastic!” Nico blurts out, feeling sorrow as his friend can no longer bear to look at him. “Count Riario has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Kind?!” Zo mocks. “He’s beating you and you say he’s kind?! That man is a psychopath and he is abusing you!”

“No!” Nico argues, frustrated that Zo cannot understand that this s his choice. “He’s taking care of me. I belong with him. He is teaching me a new path. The path of God and of repentance. Of cerebral and spiritual pleasure rather than physical.” He turns to his maestro. “Surely you can understand that, Leonardo?” he pleads.

Leonardo rubs both his hands across his face now, realising Nico really truly wants this. “I think we should go,” he says under his breath. “If Nico wants to stay here there is nothing we can do.” His heart aches as he admits that to himself and his lover. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“What?!” Zo looks at Leonardo in shock. “We can't just leave him here!”

“Or what? As you said yourself, he's not a slave for us to drag back home! This seems to be his own free will…” _I have known the boy for a long time. I sure did not see_ that _coming. How can someone develop such need for depravity?_

Leonardo meets Zo’s gaze. His anger evaporating and only a deep sadness left.

“Yes, just leave.” Nico snarls pointing to the door. “I am sorry if I have disappointed either of you, but this is where my heart truly belongs. Here with Count Riario. Please try to understand that.”  

Leo feels like he’s been just slapped in the face. _How did Riario do that? Pull him on his side like that?_ “Goodbye then, Nico,” he murmurs bitterly and walks out of the door. Another unpleasant riddle he needs to solve.

Zo throws one last pitied glance at Nico but then reluctantly follows his lover outside. “I can't believe you're just leaving him at the mercy of that man,” he mutters accusatory.

“What would you have me do? Drag him home kicking and screaming?” Da Vinci grumbles. “If you have a better plan, please enlighten me!”

_+++_

“You did not leave,” Riario says with a smile around his lips as he walks back into his room shortly after hearing the artist and his sidekick leave.

Nico gets up from his chair; all sorts of emotions are going on inside his head. _They will hate me forever. Am I really mad for wanting to stay here?_ But one look at the count tells him he has made the right choice. “Yes. I could not leave you, Dominus. I am yours.”

Riario walks over to Nico and runs his hand through his hair. “Is that what you truly desire, mio Niccolo?”

“Yes, more than anything.” Nico leans his head against Riario, finding comfort from the count’s tender gesture as his mind starts to relax. “They did not understand. They wanted to drag me back to Florence.”  

“But they did not,” Riario reassures his beloved. “And there are very few who truly understand. Do not hold it against them that they are as yet blind.”

Nico nods, letting out a sad sigh. He wishes his friends could see the world through his eyes. “They think you have me under some sort of spell,” he laughs bitterly. “Well at least Leo is not accusing me of spying for you any longer.”  

“Spy for me?” Riario raises a bemused eyebrow. He thinks about this for a moment, how he could get Nico to do pretty much anything for him now, even get him the key from Da Vinci. But no. He calls his thoughts to order. This is about something much bigger. And he finds he cannot betray the trust that the boy has placed in him like that.

“Show me your back,” he changes the subject quickly before he's tempted.

Nico lifts off his tunic, allowing Riario to examine his wounds. They still sting but the initial burn has turned into an itch. “How does it look, Your Grace?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.

“Good. No bleeding. A few scabs that is all. It should heal quickly.”

Nico feels a little disappointed that he will not have any permanent reminder of the older man from this encounter, but is equally relieved that he seems to have no sign of any infection. “They just feel a little sore,” he admits, turning around to face Riario. “Did your marks scar the first time?”  

Girolamo laughs softly at that. “No. A little perhaps. But it is not about the scars,” he says sternly. “They are not some accolade for you to show off.”

“I like being decorated by you,” Nico repeats his wording from the previous night. “They remind me that I belong to you.” He looks into Riario's eyes. “You did want me to stay?” he asks, feeling a little unsure now. _What if I have broken ties with my friends for no reason?_  

“If you are here for the right reasons, then yes,” Riario nods. He walks up to the door leading to his bedchamber and is about to ring the servant’s cord. But he halts himself and turns back to the boy. “What are you expecting from this … arrangement?” he asks softly.

Nico walks up to count Riario and in a brave move, brings his fingers up to his face, cupping it in a gesture of affection. “I want to please you. I want to learn from you.” The apprentice strokes his finger along Riario’s cheek. “I want to be yours.”  

Riario leans back from the touch, suddenly uncomfortable with that level of intimacy. “I have work to do,” he says, turning away. Last night had been easy as had their encounter before that. But he cannot spend all day whipping the boy into salvation. _What now?_ he wonders, realising that Nico has truly placed all of himself under his control. _Do I treat him as a servant? As one of the Swiss Guard?_ In truth, getting one over on Leonardo and the zoroaster had been fun and he is pleased that Nico had decided to stay. But now he feels a little frustrated and unsure how to handle this new situation, as if someone had placed an orphaned infant in his care. “Make yourself useful,” he motions towards nothing in particular.

Nico follows Riario’s hand, frowning when he sees that he is indicating to nothing at all. _Is this some kind of test?_ The apprentice looks at the count confused. “What is it you want me to do, Your Grace?” he asks when he cannot figure out what it is he should do to ‘make himself useful.’

Riario frowns. It's not that he has a problem ordering people around or having servants to do his bidding. But, “I don't want you to be my servant,” he says out loud. “That is of no interest to me; I have my own attendants to take care of those needs.”

“Nor do I want to be your servant,” Nico replies taking a seat at the table. “I would like to read my Bible, if that is alright, Your Grace.” Nico smiles, taking the leather-bound book out of his satchel. “I must confess it has been a long time since I last read the Holy Book.” In fact, he had not picked up a Bible since he had left his studies to become Leonardo’s apprentice.  

The count almost breathes a sigh of relief at that and nods, smiling. “Yes. Yes I would like you to read the Holy Book. In fact,” he rushes into his bedroom to return with his own well-read copy, flicking through the pages quickly, “I want you to read Psalm 143. And we will discuss it later.”

Nico nods, looking the psalm up in this own gifted book careful not to get it wrong. “Yes I can do that… While, I am here, am I allowed to explore the Vatican?” the blond man asks. He had read books on the holy city and was interested in looking around his new _home.  Is that what this is now?_

“Of course. Why don't you go to the library and I shall meet you there at noon. And then I can show you the House of God in all its magnificent glory, hm?” Girolamo ruffles Nico's hair again, his affection for the boy growing evermore.

“That's a brilliant idea,” Nico grins, bundling the under his arms. He leans his head into Riario's touch, enjoying the brief affection before moving to the door, in search for the library.  

+++

Nico sits at a table in the centre of the vast library. He looks around in awe as he takes in the grandeur of the place. The roof has been decorated with an elaborate painting of angels and demons, containing every shade of colour. The crescents in the centre the circle and the detailed carvings around the coves are all embellished with leaf gold and the wealth of the Roman Church shines back at him in all its glory. Bookcases stand from floor the ceiling along all three walls, all crammed full of books. _This place is magnificent. Leonardo would love it!_ At this thought the apprentice can feel sadness begin to creep in again, but he can also hear his maestro scold him for that thought. _The Vatican is the greatest thief of humanity, stealing its treasures from the hands of the people it looks to control!_

 _Is it really such an evil thing to want to celebrate the greatness of God with the riches of the world?_ Nico wonders. Surely it is not different than the ancient civilisations of Greece and Rome had done for their heathen gods, he thinks.

He forces himself to put philosophy to one side and to read the passage Riario had set him again, trying to absorb all the information he can before moving on to another part. Nico finds himself fascinated by the holy text, seeing it in a whole different way.  

“Nico,” the count announces his present at exactly twelve on the clock, having taken a few moments to silently study his protégé, pleased with the picture he'd found before him. “Have you read the verse I told you to?”

“Yes, I did. It was fascinating. I just had to read more,” Nico says, marking the page he is reading with a bookmark before shutting the Bible and facing the older man. “I can understand it in a complete different way now.”  

Riario tilts his head, smiling at the blond young man. “Good. It pleases me that you are taking an interest.” He walks up to Nico, his sword swaying at his belt. “Then through me will you be God's servant?” he asks in his soft hypnotising voice.

Nico is simply fascinated by the count's voice and he thinks he could listen to it all day. “Yes, I shall be God's servant.” The blond man picks up his copy of the holy book and places it safely in his satchel. “And renounce the Devil.”

“And I will show you the way to go. And teach you how to do His will,” Riario promises as per the psalm.

“Thank you, Your Grace, you are very kind to me,” Nico replies. The more time he spends with the count the more the man seems to defrost. He cannot believe only a few weeks ago he used to terrify him.  

“I want to introduce you to someone,” Riario carefully steers Nico towards the door, mindful of his injuries.

Nico is curious as Riario guides him through the halls, stopping every now and again to showing him part of the grand design of the place. _I wonder who he wants me to meet._ He feels excited at meeting one of Riario’s acquaintances. but a little nervous as well.

Eventually the grandeur makes place for my modest and plain halls, clearly not for public display but for the residents of the vast palace.

“Nico,” Riario says as he pushes open another door, “I would like you to meet Zita. She is my personal servant.”

Nico looks the pretty dark-skinned woman up and down. He is unsure what to think of her and frowns. _Why does Riario have a female servant?_ The blond man forces himself to be polite and gives her a little smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”  

Zita looks at her master and then back at the boy. _He's younger than I expected,_ she thinks. She is not quite sure how to address him either since Riario had only said that he was teaching him, but not what. “Piacere di conoscerti,” she greets him politely in heavily accented Italian, curtsying awkwardly, keeping an eye on the count to ensure she's not doing the wrong thing.  

Nico feels a little uncomfortable at the curtsy. He is unused to being greeted like this as he had not lived with servants for quite some time and had never had a personal servant of his own. He had always preferred to carry out tasks for himself. “How long have you worked for the count?” Nico asks, trying to make polite conversation.

Zita looks to her master. She is not supposed to make idle conversation with his friends or acquaintances and she is not exactly sure what Nico is to the count.

“Many years,” Riario answers for her. “Zita came into the papal service when she was a girl. I taught her our language. She has always been very loyal to me.” He looks at Nico, trying to gauge his reaction to this other person in his personal life.

Nico can feel a flare of jealousy at this but tries to keep his calm and not show this to either the count or Zita. _Is that all she is to him? His servant?_ He looks the personal servant up and down, feeling both weary and a little possessive over his count. He tries to look friendly but knows he is failing as his face starts to colour a little.

Riario suppresses his grin as the young man fails so badly to hide his jealousy. “Zita knows the Vatican quarters very well. If you ever need any assistance when I'm not around you may ask her.” He smiles to Zita, who nods.

“Yes, Your Grace. Will you be having anything to eat now, Your Grace?”

“Yes,” Riario nods. “Thank you, Zita.” He nods to Nico to follow him back to his dining room.

Nico takes one more look at the woman, who does not even look in his direction again. _“_ Grazie,” he says before hurrying after Riario. _Why did he not mention her earlier? How do I address her myself? “_ She seems nice.” Nico says, not sure how he feels about this lady in Riario's life.  

“She is my confidant,” Riario smiles as he takes his seat at the table, motioning Nico is to do the same for appearances. “And my friend.”

 _How good a friend is she? Have I got competition for Riario's attention?_ Nico would feel much more comfortable sitting on the floor at the count’s feet, however, he takes the seat that Riario has indicated to. “How would you like me to address her?”

“Just Zita,” Riario smiles at Nico. “She is my _ancilla_ and as such you will treat her with respect and dignity. She serves me not you,” he clarifies the rules of engagement. “But you may find her a welcome ally within these walls.” He leans himself a little forward. “Trust no-one else,” he warns. “Least of all the Holy Father.”

 _Surely there is no one I should trust more?_ Nico opens his mouth to say this then closes it again. _He does not like it when I question him too much_. “I shall remember that, Your Grace.” Nico replies pouring both of them a drink from the jug in the centre of the table. “Does she know what I am to you?”  

“No,” the count responds and says no more as Zita enters the room with a large tray.

Zita walks up to the table and begins to offload various plates and dishes. She reaches for the wine carafe but frowns when she notices that her master's glass has already been poured. She looks questioningly at the count, but when he says nothing she simply curtsies again and turns to leave.

Riario reaches out and briefly grabs her wrist. “Thank you, Zita,” he smiles warmly.

Nico averts his eyes at the touch; a mixture of desire and jealousy fuel up inside of him. He starts to pout, feeling a little uneasy with the closeness between Zita and his count.

The blond takes a sip of his wine trying to ignore the insecurities that flood through him. “This food looks good.”

Riario nods as he begins to chew on a grape and then piles some lamb on his plate. “Our Lord blessed us with these delicacies. We must not insult Him with the ridiculous notion that the beasts we eat are equal to us,” he digs at Da Vinci's vegetarian habits. “We were made in His image and if God did not wish us to eat meat he would not have made his beasts edible,” he states simply, looking at Nico for a reaction.

It had been a while since he had eaten meat, while he wasn't completely against it. However, Nico finds he agrees with Da Vinci’s view more. “I have not eaten meat for some time,” the apprentice admits, taking a mouthful of vegetables, yet to taste the meat.

Riario slams his hand down hard on the table beside Nico's plate. “Have you lost your manners?!” he bellows.

Nico jumps at the sudden movement from the count. “I… I am sorry Your Grace,” the younger man apologises his eyes widening, as he looks into the stormy dark eyes of Riario.  

“Firstly, we say grace!” the count says coolly. “Secondly, you do not start eating before I have. You _will_ wait for me before you start eating like a savage. Clearly your time with Da Vinci has erased even the most basic of etiquettes from your mind!”

Nico puts his knife and fork down, placing his hands in his lap. He feels foolish that he had not even thought about the count wanting to say grace, as Leonardo never did. “Yes Your Grace.”  

Riario folds his hands, keeping his gaze locked on Nico to ensure he does the same before closing his eyes and saying his thanks.

Nico lowers his head, not closing his eyes. It feels weird to pray; he had not even been to a church for so long. He listens to Riario’s voice, finding it mesmerising and also comforting, a smile spreads across his lips and he actually finds himself closing his eyes.

When the count opens his eyes, he's pleased to find Nico is showing respect now and he softens his posture. “Let us eat then,” he gives permission this time, taking a mouthful of the tender meat himself.

Nico can feel his stomach rumble as he loads his fork with vegetable and lamb taking a large mouthful. _What have I been missing out on? This is delicious_ , he thinks, taking another large mouthful.

“Will I get to meet the Pope?” he asks, thinking about Riario’s previous statement. _Why should I not trust the Pope?_

Riario raises his eyes momentarily and then casts them back down to his plate. “Not if I can help it,” he says softly.

 _Is he ashamed to introduce me?_ Nico asks himself and stabs at his food feeling a little annoyed. “Why, Your Grace? Do you not want him to know I am here?” the blonde asks quietly.  

“No, I do not. But not for the reasons you're thinking,” Riario says as he puts his knife down. He looks at Nico for a few moments, weighing up how much to tell him. “You've entrusted me with a great secret of yours,” he says eventually. “One that could risk everything that you hold dear if found out.”

Nico thinks about what Riario has said. _Are my preferences that dangerous?_ He knows of course sodomy is seen as crime. Not that he sees it as that; he had watched Leonardo and Zo together long enough to know that it made no difference whether you are in love with a man or woman. But why is his secret so bad? “How would the Pope know about my secret? I would not say anything.”  

 The count snorts. “This is not about your secret. It's about his.”  

“But he is the Pope. What secrets could he possibly have?” Nico thinks out loud. _He is the head of the Roman Church, God’s representative._

Riario tilts his head a little in bemusement. “What made you follow Da Vinci? You're not an artist. Why did you abandon your studies to follow a bastard like him?”

“His vision,” Nico asks without hesitation. “No, I am not an artist like him, but Leonardo has a brilliant mind, and his inventions are incredible. The man is a genius, and so far ahead of his time,” he babbles enthusiastically while taking another mouthful. “The moment I met the man I knew I had to be part of his world. My father of course was not that thrilled about me dropping my education.”  

The count nods slowly. “I once followed someone who I thought had all the answers. Who I believed wanted to make great changes for the world. I followed this man like he was a true saint, for I believed him when he said that even the greatest of our personal sacrifices were worth it for the eternal glory of God.” He looks away, sadness glistening in his eyes.

“Who? Who did you follow?” Nico asks putting down his utensils down again. He goes to take Riario's hand then thinks better of it, folding his hands it in his lap instead.

“My father,” Riario blinks at Nico, forcing a wry smile onto his face.

It is the first time Riario had spoken about any of his family, and Nico feels both shocked and honoured Riario trusts him enough to talk about this with him. “Do you have much to do with your father?” He asks carefully, sensing this is a sensitive subject but he cannot help but nose, as his curiosity gets the better of him.  

Riario begins to laugh loudly at that. He leans forward and grabs Nico's wrist firmly, pulling him towards him. “There are very few people who still own their tongue after learning this secret so you’d best hold on to yours carefully,” he warns. His eyes pierce Nico's frightened ones. “I too am a bastard. Courtesy of the Holy Father himself.”

Nico begins to cough at this. He was not expecting to be told something so big. _He really trusts me._ Nico realises. “The Pope, he is your…” he swallows trying to digest this news. “You’re his son?! I promise I will not say a word.”

“No, you will not,” Riario squeezes Nico's slender wrist harder.

“But… I don't understand,” Nico squeaks, struggling not to try and pull his hand back knowing that that will only make the count squeeze even harder. “I thought you were the papal nephew. If Sixtus is your father, does that mean you and Lucrezia are siblings?” he tries to piece the information together like he knows Leonardo would have done.

The count lets go of Nico's wrist and pushes his chair back, getting to his feet as he begins to pace. “No. We are cousins. My father… he killed my other cousin, Lucrezia’s sister, on the day of my uncle's inauguration as the new Pope.” He turns to Nico to see if the boy is following where he's going with this. “You see, they are identical twins, my father and uncle. And so it was an easy subterfuge.”

“You mean the Pope is not really the Pope.” Nico can feel his jaw drop at this news. “He's an imposter? What … what happened to your uncle?”

Riario considers whether to reveal more, but he decides it is too dangerous. “My father is a very dangerous man,” he simply warns, not answering that question. “Unfortunately, he has lost sight of God’s path,” he admits a possibly even greater secret, questioning the acting Pope's loyalty to God. “As far as I am concerned you had best stay out of his way.”

“I promise, I will take this to the grave.” Nico promises, trying to digest all the information he has just learnt. _I cannot believe nobody has found out about this. There would be such an uproar. “_ And I shall keep out of his way.”

“Good,” Riario walks up to stand behind Nico, carefully kneading his shoulders. “I don't want you to come to any harm. You are mine to protect now.” He presses his lips into Nico's golden curls.

Nico smiles at Riario's words of possessiveness, enjoying the counts more gentle side as he massages his shoulders.  He leans back against his body. “You make me feel safe,” the blond man admits softly. “Thank you for trusting me with this.”

“I must get back to work now,” the count says regretfully, kissing Nico softly. “You are free to stay here in my quarters and you may go freely in this part of the Vatican. If you leave my rooms, I expect you to be back here waiting for me when I return at six.”

“Yes, Your Grace. I think I will just stay here. My body feels a little tired, and I think I shall rest it a little.” Nico thinks about all the events of the day; so much had come to pass. “I shall be waiting for you.”  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piacere di conoscerti - Pleased to meet you.  
> ancilla - hand maiden, personal servant


	4. Leviticus 17:11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leonardo da Vinci written by our wonderful beta and guest writer Delorita

Zo’s face is one of thunder as he and Leonardo ride away from the Vatican, away from Nico. He wonders why Leonardo had not fought harder. They'd both seen what that bastard Riario is doing to poor Nico. How can he just leave him there? The boy clearly isn't in his right mind!

“I'm going back,” he says as he makes to turn his horse around.

Da Vinci quickly grabs for the reigns of Zo’s horse. He can totally relate to the anger of his partner and the picture of Nico’s injured back is clouding his own clear thinking. But still he feels that Nico has the right to make his own decision, even if he doesn’t understand it.  “Again I must ask you, what are we supposed to do there? He clearly didn’t want to come with us,” he stares into his lover’s eyes in the semi darkness. “Which saddens me greatly,” he admits softly.

“He… That…” Zo splutters. “What if the count has done something to him? To his mind I mean! Leo, you cannot be serious that Nico would willingly let that creep torture him!”

“Zo, think please,” Leonardo reaches out to caress his lover’s cheek, his eyes holding the other’s, willing him to understand. “You’ve been to whorehouses too. I’m sure you saw the men and women in leather there with their whips?”

Zo's eyes blow wide and his cheeks colour. “You mean … No fucking way! Nico is like, getting _off_ on that?! You think Riario is doing that to…” he almost chokes on the thought of it, “like, pleasure him?!”

“That’s the only explanation that came to my mind so far. I thought I didn’t hear right when he called the count _Dominus!”_ Leo’s frustration gets the better of him too, not understanding his apprentice’s mind.

“Holy fuck!” Zo coughs. He cannot help it when he begins to laugh. “Nico? Little angelic-faced Nico likes to be whipped into submission?! The little devil!”

Zo’s laughter is contagious and Leonardo joins him, feeling a large weight being lifted off his chest. He lets go of the reigns of Zo’s horse as he indicates for his mare to walk on, “I can’t get my mind around that either though,” he says lost in thought. “I want to understand…” he frowns, looking at his friend sideways. “Would you like to study that phenomenon with me?”

Zo raises an eyebrow at his lover. “What, you want me to whip you?” he chuckles.

“Erm,” Leo’s frown deepens, “I don’t know yet.”

Zo wiggles his eyebrows, finding the blush in Leo's cheeks all too cute. “Well, it's certainly not something we've tried before. And having you tied up for me actually sounds quite interesting.” When Leonardo scowls at him he quickly adds, “All in the name of research of course!”

“What? Are _you_ getting off on the thought now of having me tied up for you?” Leo chuckles, suddenly in a playful mood. “I guess there are other ways to find out about the ways of _Dominus_ and _sottomesso_.”

Zo just throws Leo a meaningful and promising smirk.

“Still, Riario though…” he huffs as they slowly carry on their journey back. “Why him? Why didn't he just go to Madam Singh for that then? How can he be sure Riario won't just kill him once he's bored of his new toy? It just doesn't feel right. And surely the papal nephew is not supposed to be doing stuff like that either.” At that his smirk widens though as he looks to Leonardo. “Seems that the count has some dark secrets that he may not want to be too publicly known,” he thinks back to Leonardo's trick with the judge. “Maybe he's willing to exchange a certain key for silence?” he hints.

Leo abruptly stops his horse to turn in his saddle, leans across and awkwardly kisses his lover, “You’re a genius Zo! I hadn’t thought about that yet,” he admits, smirking.

“You're welcome,” Zo puffs himself up a little, proud to be given that praise from the genius himself.

 

**+++ _In the Vatican_ +++**

Count Riario slowly pushes open the door to his chambers. His heartbeat speeds up a little in anticipation of seeing Nico and of what he may do to him tonight, but he forces his mind to calm.

When he finds the room empty his disappointment drops into his stomach like a stone. _He's disobeyed me. Has he left after all?_ thoughts flit through his head rapidly. _He may just have forgotten the time as he has gone back to the library_ , he thinks hopefully even though he'll be sure to punish the boy for his disobedience.

He sighs and walks into his bedroom to change into less formal attire.

As soon as his eyes fall upon the youth he begins to cough, trying to catch the breath that was stolen from him. “Nico…” he manages to bring out. The youngster is knelt on the floor as if in prayer. Not a thread of clothing on his fine body as the candle light caresses his bare skin, and the marks he'd left on them.

“I am waiting like you said, Dominus,” Nico replies trying to make his voice sound a little husky. He can feel Riario's eyes running down his body, lingering slightly longer on his buttocks. He can feel his stomach jolt as Riario moves a step closer. “Does this please you?”

“Yes…” Riario whispers. He can feel his cock lurch inside his trousers. Had he been prepared to be greeted by this sight before him he would have made sure to be in sufficient control of his emotions to control his body. But as it takes him by surprise his desires overtake him.

His breathing is rugged as he fights it. “Get up…” he orders breathlessly.

Nico slowly gets up from the floor almost teasing the count as he can tell the effect he is having on him. He had been a little unsure if this was the right thing to do, even up to moments before. However, one look at the count is enough to rid this thought.

His own excitement starts to kick in and he can feel his adrenaline building up. He brings his hands down to cup his privates not wanting to ruin the moment with his growing sin.  

Riario is nailed to the floor as the handsome young man seduces him so unsubtly. “You… need to…” he coughs but then abandons thought and reason as he grabs Nico and pushes him up against the wall, kissing him fiercely.

Nico returns the older man's kiss with passion as the heat between them is electric. He can feel Riario demand more access as he pushes his tongue into his hot mouth and is only too happy to oblige. He can feel his growing need between his legs, as Riario explores his mouth and lets out a needy moan under his lips.  

Riario battles silently with his own body. The tainted part of him wanting to give in to his desire to screw the boy into oblivion. But the saint shouts in his ear, warning him of eternal damnation, not only for himself but Nico also.

And so he pulls himself away, panting, shivering.

Nico can feel sweat pour down his brow, as he tries to regain his breath, which Riario had taken away with the passionate tonguing. “I need to what, Your Grace?” He asks giving him a cheeky smile.  

“We must not give in to this temptation,” Riario croaks huskily. “ _No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it,”_ he mutters one of the prayers that usually helps him focus his mind when his body betrays him like this.

He grabs Nico's wrists though and throws him unceremoniously onto his bed.

Nico lets out a little squeal as he lands on the mattress. He reaches out to Riario's tunic, then hesitates looking up at him unsurely. The heat and passion is obvious in the older man’s eyes. “Can I undo your tunic?” he asks his eyes slowly trailing down the count's body.

Riario nods against his better judgement.

Nico carefully undoes the buttons with a smile. “You are beautiful,” he grins as a daring thought enters his mind. He leans forward bringing his tongue down to Riario's nipple, licking a single strike across it, looking up to see the count’s reaction.  

Girolamo cannot stop the moan that escapes his lips and his erection pushes against his trousers now. “ _Keep watching and praying that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,”_ he prays as he closes his eyes and pulls Nico to his chest for more of the same.

Nico takes the count’s nipple into his mouth fully now, encouraged by the man's moan, as he holds him in place by his hair. He rolls the bud between his teeth pulling just a little, as he tests his limits. When he is continued to be met with delicious groans he bites down a little harder marking Riario as his own.

“Damn you,” the count moans as the pain and pleasure throb through his chest. He pulls Nico's hair harder, unsure whether it's to encourage him or pull him away.

After a few moments though he manages to regain his control as he pushes Nico away, onto his back as he pins him underneath him. “You are a very naughty boy,” he smirks, his eyes even darker than normal.

At this Nico can feel his cock throb harder. “Yes, I am your very naughty boy.” He grins, looking into Riario's lust-filled eyes. “You would not have me any other way, _mio Dominus_.”  

Riario's grin widens as he cocks his head at the cheeky grin on Nico's face. Oh, how he desires to just make this angelic boy his, to taste that forbidden fruit that's displayed before him so deliciously. He slowly shakes his head, moving his hands up Nico's bare arms, clasping his fingers firmly around his wrists as for one moment only he allows their joint desire to come together; his pressing through the thin cloth of his trousers against the hard want of his submissive.

But he shakes his head, knowing that to give in now would ruin everything. The enjoyment is not in the taking of what the Devil holds out to him, but rather in the resisting of it, of playing on the fringes between heaven and hell.

“I think you deserve to be punished for teasing me like that,” he growls, nipping at Nico's neck as he pushes himself up.

Nico gulps, wishing the cloth was not there between them. He feels a little disappointed when his Dominus pulls away. _Yes, yes, punish me,_ he thinks, smiling at the count. “If you think I deserve it.”  _I wonder what he will do to me tonight. Whip me? Cut me?_ Nico thinks, excitedly keeping dead still in the position he has been left.

Riario considers the same questions as he lets his eyes caress his forbidden fruit. He should not be looking upon him with such desire. And that thought sparks an idea.

He pulls open a drawer and pulls out a silk wine red scarf. “Come here,” he orders his subject as he stands by the side of the bed.”

Nico slowly crawls across the mattress teasing the count by making sure his hips swing at the same time. He locks eyes with Riario giving him a teasing wanton smile.  

Girolamo licks his lips as he caresses Nico's cheek briefly. Then he moves the scarf across his face, tying it behind his head so that his vision is obscured. “Even Orpheus taught us that it's best not to look back on that which we desire most. Rather that we should place our trust in the word of God,” he says sultrily in Nico's ear.

Nico lets out a moan. He tries to peek out beneath the scarf, however, it earns himself a slap on the arm from the older man. He finds his other senses seem to improve and tries to determine the count's next move.  

Riario grabs Nico by his wrists again, pulling him back on the bed. “You try to seduce me?” he whispers into Nico's ear, his voice hovering between desire and a warning.

Nico let's out a yelp of surprise, despite listening he had not been able to determine how close his dominant was. “Maybe,” the blond-haired boy admits, as his breath hitches. _How does he make me feel this good?_ Nico wonders as he can feel Riario breathe on his neck and a shiver goes down his spine.

Riario smirks at that admission, knowing Nico cannot see that. “You wicked boy!” he growls, taking one of Nico's wrists and locking him to his bed post with an iron shackle. “I shall have to remind you of God's law,” he hisses as he does the same on the other side.

Nico can feel his pulse race as his hands are attached to the bed. He pulls against his bindings but finds he cannot move much at all. Sweat drips down his back, as he wiggles his lower part of his body. _I wish I could see!_ Nico thinks, letting out a frustrated moan as he waits in anticipation as well as excitement.  

“Firstly, we must address this particular problem,” Riario averts his eyes from Nico's erection. “I shall place you back in the Angel’s Girdle since you are clearly incapable of controlling yourself,” he says rather hypocritically as his own arousal still stands.

Nico lets out a moan when he realises that the count does not intend on letting him come undone this time. He hisses as he can feel that familiar cold of the metal at the tip of his hard cock, as Riario leaves it there almost teasing him before placing it down on him properly. “It's cold,” Nico complains still wiggling against the mattress.  

Riario slaps the top of Nico's thigh hard with the flat of his hand. “Silence! You will take this without complaint or I shall gag you as well.”

“Yes, Dominus,” Nico replies knowing that is more of a promise than a threat. _What is he going to do to me?_ The younger man tries to loosen his blindfold a little by moving his head up and down against the pillow but finds this is to no avail as Riario has tied it too well.

“Good boy,” Riario says more softly. He moves himself from the bed and admires his voluntarily captive for a long while, not saying anything. Slowly, quietly, he takes off his boots and begins to unbutton his trousers.  

Nico tries to listen for any sign of movement, but hears nothing. _Has he left?_ He wonders suddenly and lets out a gulp. He is unsure if to call out for Riario but heeds his warning, and stops his movement hoping he will be able to hear more.  

The count slowly crawls on to the bed, lying himself next to Nico, careful not to rub up against him with anything but his hand. Very slowly and carefully he brushes the tips of his fingers along Nico's lower arm, held firmly in place by the restraint.

A shiver runs over Nico’s body as he feels Riario's long fingers stroke his arms. _Damn it how did he do that so quietly?_ Despite not being able to see he turns his head to face Riario. “Please,” Nico pleads parting his lips a little, as he longs to feel that skilful tongue inside his mouth.  

“Ssssshhh,” Riario breathes against Nico's cheek, but does not indulge him. Instead he lets his finger run further down Nico's sleek frame, counting the ribs in his chest, exploring the soft side of his stomach, across well sculpted hip bones.

The younger man’s breath hitches, as Riario runs those oh so talented fingers across his skin, which feels on fire as excitement and passion course through his veins. Nico longs to be able to reach out and give the count the same treatment, knowing with frustration that he can't he pulls against his hand restraints.

“Tell me your sins,” Riario murmurs into Nico's ear before moving himself away again. “Tell me your sinful dreams and wicked desires.” He reaches for his belt on the floor and silently unsheathes his dagger.

Nico does not hesitate. “I long for you to mark every inch of me as yours. Before I came to you I…. I used to dream of you, and my cock got so hard it was unbearable,” he pants. He would spill his darkest secrets to the Devil to get Riario to continue to touch him like that.  

The count feels his hard cock twitch at the words and he swallows hard. “Go on,” he urges as he sits himself beside the boy again. “Tell me about those dreams. Tell me what I do to you in them.”

“You would touch me all over with your sword. Touching me in the place that I can only dream of. Bending me over your knee and spanking me until my ass is red raw and I can't sit for a week.” Nico admits bucking his lower body. “I got so desperate for your touch I would wake up in tears, desperate to see you, desperate for you to make contact.”  

Riario feels his heart beat just a little faster, his breathing deepening at those delightful confessions.

He brings the flat of his blade just above Nico's arm. “God forgives you,” he hushes, “if you ask him to. If you own up to your sins and renounce your wicked ways.” He brings the blade down against the pale skin of the inside of Nico's elbow where the life beats close under the skin.

“Oh, cut me Dominus,” Nico begs feeling that sweet relief as Riario brings down the blade. “I renounce my sins,” he pants trashing his head a little against the pillows as adrenaline and pleasure course through him.  

The count scratches Nico's skin ever so slightly, not drawing blood just yet. “Are you willing to bleed for God, Nico?” he asks huskily, running the blade across his sternum now, the cold steel flickering in the warm candle light.

“Yes,” Nico replies with a croak. He looks up wishing he could see through the material, wishing he could look into Riario’s eyes. “Yes I am willing to bleed for God, Your Grace.” 

Riario straddles his submissive so that he can feel naked skin, his bare backside and privates pressed against the young man. Before Nico gets a chance to register all of that he drags the knife down his torso and across from nipple to nipple, leaving a perfect bleeding cross cut into his chest. “God hears your confession, Nico. You are His son.”

Nico gasps for air at the pain, trying to arch up from the bed. But with that he feels the weight of his master on him and the sensation of bare skin. _Is he..._? Oh shit! Nico moves his head more now, willing for the scarf to come free, willing for free movement so he can touch and feel “Thank you, Your Grace!” he almost screams.  

Riario leans himself forward, tracing the bloody cross first with his finger and then with his tongue. “ _For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul.”_

Nico moans as he feels that clever tongue lick over his body. _I wonder if heaven feels like this?_ he thinks, wishing his cock was not entrapped in its fine prison.

“Stick out your tongue,” the Captain General orders, kneeling over Nico as he bucks up against him.

Nico does as he is ordered opening his mouth wide and sticking his tongue out, waiting his body twitching with anticipation.

The count slices the sharp blade across his own palm and balls his fist until bright red droplets of blood drip onto Nico's tongue. “ _For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins,”_ he sighs, feeling light headed himself from the sheer exhilaration. His member leaking in excitement.

Nico tastes the metallic blood on his tongue and rolls it back into his mouth making sure not to spill a drop. Then he can feel his stomach become moist. _Is he leaking?_ the blond thinks excitedly. He sticks his tongue out again. “More… can I have more, Dominus?”  

“No.” Riario knows he is dancing on the verges, the lines now so blurred that he cannot be sure whether it's God or Satan whispering in his ear.

He abruptly gets up and rummages in the drawer again. He has never come this close to losing his iron control over his body, at least not since he first mastered it. Nico really does test his resolve to its very limits, both mentally and physically.

He hisses as he claps the ring around his base, the sharp ridges on the inside sending shock through his body that temporarily threatens to send him over the edge rather than stop him from falling into the abyss.

Nico listens to what is going on around him. He could feel the bed move as Riario had gotten up. He lets out a disappointed sigh. His ears prick as he tries to determine whereabouts in the room the count is. At the hiss, he frowns wondering what had caused Riario pain.

When the room is quiet for a few moments, he wonders if he has done something wrong. “Your Grace?”  

His shackles are suddenly undone. “Turn around,” the order comes briskly. “On your hands and knees. Now!”

Nico does not hesitate and flips his body over. He wishes he could see and can feel his balance is slightly affected due to lack of sight, but hurries to comply with the order.  

“Take off the girdle,” the count snarls. “You need to learn to control your desires without it.”

Nico frowns but complies bringing his hand down to his privates, he fiddles with the device, but is no use with his vision blocked and he gives out a frustrated snarl. “Can I take off the blindfold?”’

“How dare you!” Riario smacks Nico hard across his buttocks with the thin wooden ruler he has in his hand. “Do as you're told!”

“Yes, Dominus,” Nico gasps as he feels the sting on his buttocks. He fumbles with the girdle, feeling frustrated as it takes him a while to figure it out.

“Are you holding me in contempt, boy?!” the count becomes impatient, his aching tortured member making him furious. He smacks Nico again. “Hurry up!”

Nico lets out a deep breath as Riario hits him again with the ruler. He eventually manages to free himself letting out a sigh of relief.  

“Good boy,” Girolamo praises, allowing his hand to caress Nico's tender buttocks for a moment. “How many have you had?” he asks breathlessly.

 _How many what?_ Nico wonders screwing up his face, trying to figure out the question, then it dawns on him and he flushes red. “Just you.”  

“Don't flatter me idly!” the count smacks his backside again. “A pretty boy like you!”

“It… it is the truth, Your Grace.” Nico can feel his cock begin to harden again. _Control yourself Nico, don't think with your cock._ “Only you.”   

Riario considers this for a moment. Even in the jaws of his ring his cock is pleading with him. _A virgin…_ His desire bucks like a wild horse as he stares at that inviting body submitted before him. Tentatively he brushes his thumb between Nico's cheeks, over the rumpled pink skin of his pucker.

Nico let's out a gasp. _Is he going to breach me?_ His cock stands proudly at attention. And his ears are perked up again for any noise, or indication of the count's intentions. He lets out a little squeal as Riario moves his thumb in a circle around his hole. _Do it, please do it!_  

“Good,” Riario mutters almost inaudibly. “I like that. I like that a lot.” He sighs. “And we must keep it that way.”

Nico can feel his heart sink a little at this, as Riario's clever thumb continues to tease his body. “Please Dominus,” he pleads, wiggling his bum a little.  

“Little Nico,” Riario tries not to let the temptation rouse his anger, “ _it is the will of God, that we abstain from sexual immorality; that we each know how to control our own body in holiness and honour, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God.”_ As he softly speaks those words he reaches for the smallest of the three plugs he had pulled out of his drawer, pouring a little oil on it before pushing it against Nico's fluttering pucker. “I will protect you, il mio sottomesso, from such deviance. You will remain pure, mio angelo.”

 

Nico squeals as he can feel pressure to his pucker. Panic rises up in him a little at the unknown. _It won't fit? Surely not._ His breathing gets heavier and his body starts to tense. “What…what are you doing?” the blond asks _._

“Sssssh my angel,” Riario gently caresses his backside and back as the thin slightly curved plug slides in smoothly, leaving the flat end to seal the boy against any interference. “I will not let him harm you. I will not let anyone take away your purity. You are so perfect,” he whispers through kisses against the small of Nico's back.

Nico jolts at the cold foreign intrusion. His natural instinct is to move away but he knows better than to do that. As the count’s hypnotic voice soothes him, his body relaxes slowly around the object. He feels the odd sensation of his inner muscles clamping onto the item whilst he also wants to expel it from his channel at the same time as he feels as if he needs the privy. It's unusual but not unpleasant he decides.

Nico thinks of Riario's wording. _Who is_ he _?_ He opens his mouth to ask this, then closes his mouth. He is still unsure where the count is in the room, and perks up his hearing, when he hears a little movement in that direction he shifts his body to face Riario, and leans forward, wanting to claim his lips.  

Riario smiles, observing the boy as he displays his need. “Nico,” he says softly, caressing his face, running the thumb of his other hand across Nico's lips. “You deserve to be spanked. Do you want me to spank you, Niccolo?”

Nico can feel his cock leak at these words and moans needily. “Yes, spank me. I deserve it. I need it.” A smile crosses his lips. “Make my dream come true.”  

The count hesitates. It should not be about dreams coming true but about atonement for their sin. But the other side of him wants to be the one who Nico begs. Wants to be the one to give Nico what he desires.

He caresses his backside again, tracing the perfect curve with his hand, pushing against the plug, before slapping his hand down on soft flesh.

The plug presses further in, pleasure soars through Nico as it brushes up against something inside of him. _What is that? That is amazing._ When the next slap comes down he jolts forward. A blush creeps up over his neck and face.

Riario knows he's doing it right as he watches the blotches appear in that sleek neck under those golden curls. He reaches for the ruler again and this time lets the wood slap against those lovely buttocks, the sound resonating through the room.

The ruler, sends more of an instant heat to Nico's buttocks. Each hit feels like it pushes the plug deeper inside. _I think I could learn to like this thing!_ Nico thinks pawing the bedding with his fingers. Sweat clings to his forehead. “Thank you Your Grace.”  

“Focus,” the count says on the next hit. “Feel it inside of you. Focus on God's voice as he shows you true love.” He makes sure to stimulate Nico relentlessly until he no longer remembers what is real and what's not. At least focusing on his task and duty towards his submissive himself has helped to get his own body back under some form of control again.

 _Come!_ the wicked voice in his mind wants to order the boy, but he bites his tongue hard.

Nico tries to clear his mind of everything except the count’s voice.  He can feel the toy brush up against that special place inside of him. It takes one more swat when Nico can feel that familiar sensation in his stomach. His mind clears as he feels himself approaching the moment of pure ecstasy. The blond finally gives in and bucks his hips, his movements become erratic and breathing heavy. He blows his hot load over Riario's bed, all the time pawing at the duvet.

Riario watches the boy shudder and moan as if through a haze. His temples are throbbing and he finds himself swaying on his feet. Get dressed! his sanity reminds him and whilst Nico is still riding the waves of his sin he hastily reaches for his trousers.

“Niccolo,” he whispers when the boy flops down on the bed. The count finishes pulling his shirt over his head and sits on the edge of the bed. “Niccolo?” he whispers again, brushing the damp hair out of his boy's face.

“Hmm,” Nico responds, not having much energy to say anything else. The blond lifts up his heavy head and drags his body across the bed towards Riario, leaning his head in his lap. He feels high as if he has been on Leonardo’s opium. He closes his eyes and snuggles against the older man's leg. “Good.”

“You must sleep, mio Niccolo,” Riario says softly, carefully moving the young man off his lap. “You may stay here for now. I will be back.” He pulls at the soiled blanket but gives up when he cannot move it from under Nico's deadweight.

Nico groans as his head is moved, but feels too far gone to argue, and grabs a pillow bringing it close to his chest. The scarf is still around his eyes, but he does not have the energy to ask for it to be removed. He closes his eyes and as sleep creeps up on him.

Riario throws one more glance at Nico, reassuring himself that his protégé is well and safe enough to be left for a while. Then he quietly slips out of the room, locking the door to his chambers behind him.

+++

“My Lord?” Zita blinks as she is awoken by her master standing in her doorway. It is rare that he visits her at night and when he does she knows his mind is most troubled by his constant inner struggle.

He silently walks up to her. The first time he had come to her she had to talk him into her bed, telling him about Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. Now the arrangement requires no spoken words as she pulls back the covers and he discards his clothes.

His kisses are hot and desperate, his body hard as he pushes into her.

Zita gasps as he takes her and then seeks his mouth again, wrapping herself around him as the count silently moves inside her except for the soft moans that escape his lips.

She loves his strength that contrasts the tenderness with which he penetrates her. She knows he will never truly love her like that, but that he cares for her more than anyone ever has. And if she is to be his outlet for a desire that he cannot satisfy then she will be that for him, for the man who has been her master and her friend for so long. The one to sooth both his tortured body and mind.

The servant girl arches up as she feels her master’s moves become rigid. His lips are pressed against her neck as he climaxes inside of her with muffled groans. She will have to visit the old woman tomorrow to make sure that his seed does not take hold for both their sake.

She threads her fingers into his raven hair, whispering soft words of endearment in her native tongue. His breathing slows as he moves away and then curls himself against her.

“Will you stay, Your Grace?” Zita asks softly.

“Yes,” Riario mutters to her joy.

She holds him and gently strokes him, feeling the hard ridges on his back from when he's not come to her for relief but sought to banish his desires from his mind through his chastisement.

“Sleep now, My Lord,” she soothes until his breathing slows right down and deepens. And she thanks God for allowing her master this moment of peace as she too falls asleep against Girolamo's warm body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bible Quotes - 
> 
> We must not give in to this temptation. No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it. - 1 Corinthians 10:13 
> 
> Keep watching and praying that you may not enter into temptation; the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. - Matthew 26:41 
> 
> For the life of the flesh is in the blood: and I have given it to you upon the altar to make an atonement for your souls: for it is the blood that maketh an atonement for the soul. - Leviticus 17:11 
> 
> For this is my blood of the new testament, which is shed for many for the remission of sins. - Matthew 26:28 
> 
> It is the will of God, that we abstain from sexual immorality; that we each know how to control our own body in holiness and honour, not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God. - 1 Thessalonians 4:3-8


	5. Psalm 51:7-10

When Nico wakes up, a cool breeze flutters across his naked body causing him to shiver. His body feels tender and sore. For a moment he thinks it is still dark, but then he remembers the scarf and undoes the knot. He blinks against the soft light coming through the window, which tells him it's still quite early.

The sticky remains of the previous night cling to his skin. Then it hits him, _I am in Riario's room. He let me sleep in his room!_ A smile spreads across his face. but as he looks around the room it slowly drops. _He never came back,_ he realises sadly, flopping down on the bed disappointed. A gasp leaves his lips as the thing that the count put inside of him presses into his bowels. _I need the privy_ , he realises with panic. He jumps off the bed and tries the door, giving it a little shake, but he realises he is locked in. “Damn,” Nico whispers under his breath.

He catches his reflection in the mirror and gasps as he sees the reason why his chest feels to tender as the angry red lines of the cross that Riario had carved into his skin reflect back at him. He sways as he recalls how intense their session had been and now that he is once again aware of the cuts they sting twice at much.

 _What am I going to do? What if he doesn't come back for hours? What if he doesn't come back at all?_ he wonders why Riario had abandoned him. He moves back to the bed and lies down closing his eyes trying to ignore his need, and worries, until he finally hears the keys turn in the lock.

“Buongiorno, Niccolo,” Count Riario says softly as he attaches the keys back onto his belt. He frowns as he finds Nico still in his bed. “Get dressed,” he orders, pulling his gaze away.  

“I need the privy. How do I get this thing out?” Nico asks, indicating to the device in his back passage.

Riario smirks, feeling a blush creep into his cheeks as last night's memories return. “The same way as it went in. You'll work it out,” he looks challengingly at the blond boy.

Nico brings his hands to his backside and a flush spread across his cheeks.

“Not in here, you foolish boy! You have soiled my sheets quite enough,” Riario shakes his head. “Use the washroom,” he points. “And clean yourself up before you face me again.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Nico replies, gathering his clothing from the corner where he had taken it off the previous night. He walks into the count's private washroom and before he does anything else he gently pulls at the flat part that had sealed the plug into place, pulling it out slowly, as his body tries to cling onto the device. He reaches for the chamber pot, finally feeling his body relax.

The young man washes his body with a wash cloth, letting out a hiss as he carefully runs it over the cross shaped cut on his chest. Now that he is not worrying about being abandoned he is able to examine the count’s work with a smile. Despite it being sore, he feels proud to carry his master’s artwork.

He cleans the toy and then hesitates, unsure if Riario will expect him to put the plug back in. But as there is no oil and he is not sure if he is breaking some rule putting it inside at his own hand, he decides to leave it. He does one wash over his body making sure he is fully clean before pulling his clothing on, and returning to the sleeping quarters.

Riario is sat on the edge of the bed, studying the stains of their exchange last night; the dark brown of dried blood and the white of semen. He takes slow deep breaths, repeating his mantras over and over.

“Nico,” he smiles, getting to his feet when the youngster appears before him.

“I eh …” Nico awkwardly holds up the thin curved device.

Riario flushes a deep red and quickly grabs it, putting it back in the drawer. He turns back and cocks his head. “We need to get you some clean clothes. I will ask Zita to bring some.” He gently caresses Nico's cheek, brushing his curls behind his ear only for them to fall forward again.

Nico looks down at his clothing only then realising it is the same outfit he has on that he did the day he arrived in Rome. He smiles at the caress, longing to do that to Riario but not wanting to overstep the boundaries so he does not. He looks at his staining from the previous night and his cheeks flush. “I am sorry about making a mess of your bed, Your Grace.”

“I shall have it laundered,” the count says evenly. “You lost control.” _As did I._

“I know. I do really struggle to control myself,” Nico admits softly, looking at the ground. “I do try, I just haven't mastered that skill yet.” _You do such things to me, Your Grace, what do you expect?_ he wants to add but bites his lip

“And we shall practice more,” Riario promises. “Today I will take you to the Chapel. To ask for forgiveness. And for guidance.”

“I would like that,” Nico says genuinely. “To feel closer to God.” He looks tentatively at his master. “How long did it take you to get control your sins, Your Grace?”

“Our fight never ends, Nico,” Riario says, thinking about just how close he came to losing himself last night. “The Devil does not sleep and is always finding new ways to tempt us. Such is the punishment of mankind. We must remain vigilant and we must repent when we falter.” 

“Will I always have the need to lose myself with you?” Nico asks. “Why is the Devil punishing mankind? Could it not be God rewarding us by letting us have these feelings?”  

“Ah, but that is what Satan, the Deceiver, wants you to think. You must never mistake these heinous lusts for God's love, Nico. For it is only when we renounce them that His true purpose for us is revealed. Do you wish to burn in hell for all eternity, young master Machiavelli, in exchange for the temporary pleasures of the flesh? Or would you live your life as a pious man to demonstrate you are worthy of His eternal glory?”

Nico thinks about the count’s words for a while. _Of course the second option._ “I shall of course prefer a pure life,” the younger man says as they walk through to Riario’s dining room. “Why is the sinful stuff more fun?” he mutters under his breath.

Girolamo pretends not to have heard the last comment as he rings the bell for Zita. Although part of him can't help but wonder the same thing. _Your thoughts are no better than your acts!_ he scolds himself.

Zita keeps her eyes to the floor when she responds to her master's call, trying to hide the blush in her cheeks and grateful for her dark tones that make it at least less obvious. “What may I please you with, Your Grace?” she asks softly, very aware of the boy’s eyes on her. _What is he teaching the boy?_ she wonders.

“Master Machiavelli needs clean clothes,” Girolamo answers Zita, feeling his stomach flutter as he thinks about their night together. “I need you to find him some. Something appropriate for here.”

Zita slowly looks up, moving her eyes from the count to the boy.

Nico can see the flush of her face. She seems somewhat more nervous than the first time he had met her. The younger man forces himself to smile, despite the same rise of jealousy as before. “How are you today?” he asks trying to at least come across as nice, so he doesn't annoy his master. _Stop looking at him!_ he longs to demand as she looks at Riario for a little longer than normal.

Zita looks unsurely at the count, who smiles back warmly at her. “I am well, master Machiavelli,” she says politely to the young man. “Thank you for asking.” She quickly turns her attention back to the count. “I shall go and find master Machiavelli some clothes, as you wish, Your Grace. May I be of any other service to you?”

Riario’s eyes sparkle at that question, but his body language betrays nothing. “No, that will be all. Thank you, Zita,” he dismisses her for now.

Nico watches Zita leave. They exchange eye contact and he gives her a little smile deciding if Riario likes her he should at least make an effort.

Breakfast has already been placed on the table. He watches his Count take his place at the table and automatically kneels on the ground feeling more comfortable on the floor.  

Riario smiles at the youngster knelt by him. “You must forgive Zita if she does not say much to you. It's not appropriate for someone of her standing to make conversation with my guests. However, she means a great deal to me and I would like you to get along.” He strokes Nico's face, tilting his chin up. “Don't ask her questions in front of me as if she were an equal, it makes her uncomfortable. She's proud and good at her job. Allow her to do it without compromising her. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Nico closes his eyes briefly. “If it is important to you I will try to get along with her,” he agrees softly, enjoying the gentler side of his master as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I guess I don't really know how to act around her. I mean, you said the other day she is not my servant, but I don't want to make her uncomfortable by talking to her in a way she doesn't like.” _I wonder how well they know each other?_ he cannot help but think. _“_ How did you and Zita become close?” Nico asks instead.

“She looks after me when I need her to,” the count says, buttering a fresh bread roll and handing it to Nico. “Some days I think she understands me better than I do myself,” he says more to himself than Nico.

Nico feels that familiar spark of jealousy, but forces it away. _Give her a chance at least. “_ Where does she come from originally?” he takes a bite of his roll.

“Abyssinia,” Riario smiles at the question, pleased that the boy is taking an interest in the woman who means so much to him. “East Africa. You must ask her about it when you speak to her alone. And she will tell you about its desserts and great forests. About the waterfalls that join heaven and earth, like God's staircase.” He smiles as he thinks about the many nights that he had spent listening to Zita talk about her homeland as he had encouraged her to speak Italian. “She would like that.”

The tenderness with which Riario talks about his personal servant does not go unnoticed and the ugly sting inside Nico’s stomach intensifies, causing his to forget his place for a moment. “How does she look after you?” Nico asks as he watches the count’s expression. “After you locked me in your room, did you spend the night with her?” he blurts out the question burning on his tongue.

The count chokes on his bread at the direct question. He feels a blush creep up his neck and he isn't sure whether it's from embarrassment or anger. “How dare you…” he manages as he catches his breath, downing his wine.

“Is that a yes then?” Nico asks coolly, getting up from the spot from the floor. “Where did you go last night that was so important?”  

Riario’s hands shoots out to grab Nico's wrist, twisting it hard enough for the boy to yelp. He wants to tell him he has no right to ask him that. That he should remember his place. But a part of him feels that he owes him the truth. “She is … She gives me what you can never give me,” he swallows hard, his emotions high in his throat as he is so close to spilling the truth.

Nico remains quiet for a second. _I have given up my life in Florence to be here._ He can feel both hurt and anger rise up inside of him like a volcano. “I have given up my friends, have earned their hatred to be here.” The younger man takes some deep breaths trying to calm himself down a little. “How is it right for you to be with her and not me?”

Riario jumps to his feet, pulls back his hand and smacks Nico hard across his face, sending him stumbling back. “I can _NEVER_ be with you!” he shouts. “You ungrateful sodomist! I have given you my attention, my care, everything you've asked for! How dare you insult me like that! Have I not tried to help you overcome your sins, your debauchery! You talk about your friends, the wicked Leonardo da Vinci who should have burnt at the stake for his crimes!” He pushes Nico into the corner, towering over him. “What will you have me do, spawn of Satan? Lose my soul for you? Invoke God's wrath for these unholy desires?! Can you not see that I'm trying to save you from _this_?!” he spits.

Nico stares wide eyed at the count; he had never seen him lose his temper like that before. He rubs at his sore cheek feeling a little fearful of the older man.

When Nico looks into Riario's eyes he sees pain mixed in with the anger and he can see that is what has fuelled the outburst. More than anger at being questioned it is frustration from the fact he cannot give in to what he wants. “I am sorry, I should not have pushed you and I know you want what is best for me. Your Grace.” Nico says softly but dares not move until Riario lets him.  

Riario stares at Nico for a few moments, trying to calm down, trying to regain control, his hands still on either side of Nico's head against the wall.

Then, without a word, he abruptly turns himself around and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Nico stays frozen in his position by the wall. His body is shaking with shock at the situation. Part of him wants to follow Riario to try and apologize for angering him, the other more stubborn part, wants to stay put. While he can see where the count is coming from he feels angry at the insult to both himself and Leonardo.

The younger man sighs and walks over to the oak table, taking a seat at it and pouring himself a drink of water as he tries to calm himself down.  

Zita knocks softly on the door of her master's quarters. When no response comes she slowly pushes open the door. “Your Grace?”

“He has started work already,” Nico lies not wanting to let Zita know of the argument she had caused. He thinks about his promise to Riario. _Well at least if I try to get along with her it might please him._

“I see,” Zita shifts a little uncomfortably. Being alone with the boy in Riario’s quarters feels very wrong and she wonders why her master had so suddenly disappeared. “I brought you your clothes, signore,” she holds out the pile. “I hope they fit you.”

Nico accepts the clothing with a smile. “They look spot on size wise,” Nico comments, trying to make conversation with the pretty woman, who continues to look a little uncomfortable. “Do you enjoy working for Count Riario?”

“Yes,” Zita responds without hesitation. “His Grace has been very kind to me and taught me a lot. He's a fair master.”

Nico smiles at this. “Yes, he has taught me a lot too. About God.” _and my sins,_ he adds in his head but would not dare dream of saying this outloud. He shifts uncomfortably and takes a sip of his water.

Zita knows she should just leave, but she's curious too about the one who Riario had brought into their midst. “His Grace has not had an apprentice before,” she says carefully. “May I ask how long you will be staying for, signore Machiavelli?”

“Please call me Nico.” Nico replies feeling a little bit uncomfortable being addressed so formally. “I am not sure yet. For as long as I am welcome.” He pulls out a chair next to him indicating for Zita to sit. “I feel I have a lot left to still learn.”

Zita blinks for a moment at the unexpected gesture, but then hesitantly takes the offered seat. “What is Girolamo teaching you?” she asks brazenly.

 _I cannot tell her the truth._ Nico decides and bites his lip thinking quickly about a good answer. “About myself, how to improve and embrace god in my life, and to accept his love and teachings.”

Zita smiles and nods. “He told me you were a student of the artist Leonardo da Vinci. And that signore Da Vinci thinks very differently about God and the Roman Church.” She looks curiously at Nico, “Why did you come to Rome?”

“I met the count when he came to Florence and found his views fascinating. He made me see the world in a different way to Leonardo. I just had to learn more.” He takes a sip from his glass. He thinks of telling Zita the truth then thinks better of it. “I guess I learnt everything from Leonardo.”

“He is a good man, Girolamo,” Zita says softly but earnestly. “His faith is very strong. If you are kind to him he will be kind to you.” She looks intently at Nico. “Just be careful whilst you are here, Nico. There are others who cannot be trusted like that.”

“Riario has warned me to be wary of everyone and that there are snakes in the grass, especially the people you expect to be trustworthy,” Nico says softly, hoping he has not said too much. He gives Zita the first genuine smile he has so far. “He values your trust a lot.”  

At that Zita lowers her gaze, not sure how to respond to that since Riario had been very clear in his instructions.

Nico smiles at Zita’s blush, enjoying the woman’s company. “Hopefully I will earn his trust as much as you one day. The count told me to ask you about Africa. What is it like? Do you miss it?”

Zita looks at Nico with a profound sadness behind her dark eyes. “Do I miss my country?” she asks incredulously at the young man's naivety. “Do I miss my freedom? My family? I do not even know if they are still alive, signore,” she tries not to be angry. “I did not _choose_ to come here, like you did. I am only grateful that Girolamo treats me with respect and honour.”

She catches herself, reminding herself that this is her master's guest. “Forgive me, please.” She gets to her feet. “I shall leave you to try on the clothes.” She curtsies and makes for the door.

“I am sorry, Zita, that was stupid of me to ask.” Nico gets up from his chair. “I did not mean to upset or offend you,” he genuinely feels upset about the hurt look on the coloured woman's face. “It was stupid and selfish of me.”

Zita stops and turns back to the young man. “It is alright. And thank you,” she smiles sadly. “You are fortunate, Nico, that you have not seen the cruelty of mankind like I have. Like Girolamo has. You chose to have the marks in your skin.”

Nico gasps with shock at how blunt Zita is and can feel his face start to colour. “D-do you find it odd, that I have chosen to be treated like this?” He finds it both odd to talk this openly with anyone and a relief.  

Zita flushes as she knows she's overstepped her boundaries so badly. But it feels surprisingly comfortable to talk to the boy whom the count is teaching his ways. “No,” she shakes her head. “At first, yes. When I saw the marks on his back… But His Grace has explained to me why he chooses this chastisement of his flesh and I guess he teaches you the same. It is not like the barbaric practice of slave traders.” She rolls up her sleeves, showing the markers on her arms, as well as those on her face and neck. “My tribe, in Abyssinia, we mark ourselves too. They are symbols of pride. Of family. Of achievements and victory. _That_ I can understand, Nico.”

Nico examines the marks, fascinated by them. Suddenly they have a new understanding. “They are beautiful,” he says softly looking at the marks on her neck also. “Do they all have a different meaning?”  

“Yes,” Zita smiles very proudly. “They are given to us by our mothers and grandmothers and great grandmothers. When we are born. When we come of age. When we learn our trade. When the women of my tribe give birth to their children. I am very proud of my scars,” she straightens herself a little. It feels so strange after all these years to meet another like the count who understands. Most Italians she had met are so different to her people that sometimes she may actually believe that they are a different species. “They tell my story and that of my people. The part of the story that is truly me.”

“And so you should be proud. Your culture is fascinating.” Nico finds himself seeing Zita in a whole new different light and despite his original hesitance finds himself enjoying her company. “They suit your personality.” He examines them again noticing all the different patterns in the scaring, each stroke is so different from the other. “I am proud of mine as well. As odd as it sounds I feel alive when Riario decorates me.”

“As _you_ should be,” Zita smiles as she rolls her sleeves back down. She is beginning to see why her master had accepted this young man as his protégé. “I can see how cares for you. He sees potential in you.”

“I care about him a lot too.” Nico says smiling at Zita’s observation. “He understands me like no other has before. He understands my wants, my needs.”  

Zita looks at the boy. “You must be careful,” she reminds him again of where they are and that this conversation has to remain a secret. “And you should not speak of those things.”

“I will be more careful. Riario has told me to trust you and you only. I shall follow his and your advice,” Nico gives the woman another smile. “Thank you for kindness.”

Zita bows her head briefly. “And you too, Nico.” With that she hurriedly leaves the room.

Nico goes into the adjoining room, hastily pulling on the clean clothing. He looks into the mirror and smiles. _I look like a blond Riario!_ He tries to flatten his hair down then walks back into the dining room. _I need to make things right, to let him know I understand._  

+++

Nico walks through the hallways feeling frustrated. He had been looking for Riario for a few hours. _Maybe I should just go back to his rooms and_ wait, he decides and turns towards that direction. _Why did I have to open my mouth? Why could I just not keep my jealousy to myself?_ Then he hears a voice and can feel his heart skip a beat as he recognises the deep tones of his count’s voice coming from a nearby room.

“I have been looking for you, Your Grace,” he beams as he pushes open the door, but feels his face drop as he sees the Pope and Riario in heated conversation.  

The count's already pale pallor turns an ashen grey as he finds Nico standing in the doorway. “Nico,” he says through gritted teeth. “What are you doing here?”

Before the young Florentine has a chance to respond the Pope's grey eyes lock on the uninvited visitor. “Who is this?!” he asks Riario sharply.

Nico hesitates, biting his lip. _This_ is bad, _this is very bad._ He wants to turn around and walk away as both Zita’s and Riario’s warnings play in his head, but knows he cannot just ignore the most powerful man in the world. “My name is Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli, Your Holiness. I am sorry to disturb you.”

“Halt,” Sixtus prevents the visitor from slipping away. He turns to his son. “How did a Florentine get in here, Girolamo?”

Riario curses the situation silently as he quietly answers, “Signore Machiavelli is my guest, Holy Father. He's here to renounce the heresy of De Medicis and embrace Rome’s glory, Your Holiness.” He throws Nico a warning look not to contradict him or indeed say anything at all.

“Yes, Your Holiness. I am here to embrace God and His teachings.” Nico agrees quietly. _Why did I not just wait for Riario in his rooms? What do I do now?_ He shifts his feet uncomfortably as he feels Sixtus’ icy stare on him.

Sixtus rises himself up from his seat and walks over to the blond boy, holding out his ring to him. Riario has to bite his tongue as he digs his nails into the palm of his hand.

Nico bends himself low, kissing the golden ring. He finds the man puts him on edge and wishes he could get as far away from him as possible. He instantly dislikes the man and feels uneasy as Sixtus scans him with his eyes. “I am sorry to have disturbed you,” Nico repeats once again, hoping he will be excused so he can return to his count's rooms.  

Sixtus gives him a false smile and then turns back to Riario. “Very nice,” he smirks. “Bring him to me later.”

Nico gulps. _Why am I to see him later?_ Then it dawns on him. The comments from Riario and Zita about trusting no-one especially not the Pope. About keeping him safe and not letting _him_ take his purity. Is this powerful man who leads the Roman Church really that deprived? But then…  he's not the real Pope, Nico reminds himself. He killed his own niece and did who knows what to his own brother to rise to power under false pretences. Surely such a man would be capable of anything! The colour drains from Nico's face. He locks eyes with Riario, who has pure anger in his eyes. _Surely he won't make me?_

“No,” Riario croaks, casting his eyes down. “Your Holiness,” he adds reluctantly.

Sixtus tilts his head, looking at the count with pure dismissal. “What did you say?”

Riario forces himself to remain standing very still, even though he knows full well what's coming next. He throws Nico a quick glance, wishing him to leave, wishing him to run! _I do not want you to see this_. “I will not bring Signore Machiavelli to you, Your Holiness. He is a guest.” _Not your whore!_

Nico can feel his body begin to shudder. _I belong to Riario, not you!_ he longs to shout at the top of his lungs. He takes a few weary steps back, knowing he should leave but cannot leave Riario to face this dangerous man alone.  

The fist in his face hurts no less after so many years. Riario flinches as the ring cuts his cheek, but he holds his footing. The second blow comes so fast after the first though that he's not had enough time to regain his balance and he falls backwards, landing painfully on the edge of a chair.

“Leave him alone,” Nico shouts despite his fear. He feels his anger erupt at seeing Riario knocked to the floor, and rushes toward his count.

“Nico!” Riario exclaims, horrified. “This is _not_ your fight! Now go!” he snarls.

“I won't just leave you.” Nico argues, but one stern look from Riario is enough to make him turn and leave the room as fast as he can.  

Sixtus lets the boy go and looks at Riario with contempt. “Who do you think you are, refusing my order?” he says coldly, kicking him in the ribs before seating himself down again. “You will insult me for a Florentine? He must have some skill to warrant such insolence.”

Riario gasps for air but forces himself onto his feet. “He's not…” he flinches at the pain in his chest. “I _am_ teaching him,” he tries to convince his father that Nico isn't some toy to command. “About God.”

“Good,” Sixtus says smugly. “I needn't remind you then that I am the Roman Pontiff and God's voice on earth. And you will bring the boy to me.”

Girolamo swallows. “I… do not deem it wise, Holy Father,” he tries a different tactic. “Niccolo Machiavelli is a learned man. Son of an attorney and descendant of the marquises of Tuscany. He is under protection from Lorenzo de Medici. Until we've brought Florence to its knees, Your Holiness, it would be best not to cause a scandal and give any strength to Lorenzo's claims against you.” He looks at his father hopefully that he may just have convinced him to leave Nico alone.

“Hm,” Sixtus thinks that over. “Very well.”

Riario tries not to sigh visibly in relief. He makes to turn around and excuse himself, but the false Pope never lets him off that easily.

“If not the boy, then bring me the black girl,” Sixtus sneers wickedly at him and Riario feels his heart drop. He opens his mouth, but then closes it again, knowing that the argument for Nico doesn't stand for a slave girl. And so he gives a curt salute and hastens out of the room as he desperately fights his emotions.  

+++

Nico paces the room, unsure what to do. He had tried to sit and just wait but he feels too restless. _What if the Pope has done something awful? What if Riario does not come back? Will Leonardo and Zo welcome me back?_ He runs his fingers through his uncontrollable hair feeling himself panic more as he thinks of the situation. _What if I have to please the Pope? I belong to Riario. What if he is forced to give that power over to his father?_ Every footstep outside of Riario's room makes him jump and his heart race. _What if I never see him again?_ He sinks into a nearby chair and buries his face in hands as his temple throbs.   

Riario isn't sure whether to be relieved, angry or upset to find Nico in his room, nor whether he welcomes the company or would rather be left alone. And so he closes the door behind him silently and walks straight into his bedroom, without so much as acknowledging Nico.

Nico gets up from the chair following Riario into the bedroom. He looks at the bleeding face, and looks around the room for something to clean it up with. Eventually settling on his old shirt, he rips a bit off from the sleeve, bringing it up to Riario’s face. “I am sorry, I have caused this.”

The count flinches and his instinct is to push Nico away, but he finds not even the strength to do that. And so he allows the tender care from his _sottomesso._ He says nothing as anything and everything feels futile at that moment.

“Thank you for protecting me, Dominus.” Nico gives Riario a brief kiss to the forehead as guilt fills him. _I caused this. Why did I even go looking for Riario? Why was I not more careful before I called his name?_ “Does the Pope still require my company?”  

Riario’s eyes instantly flame at Nico and he pins him down on the bed, his hands around his throat. “I told you to stay away! Do you have any idea what you've done! I've had to sacrifice her. For YOU!” he hisses.

Nico gasps clawing at his throat. “I tried to stay away… I was looking for you,” he gasps. _Her? Zita!_ “I…I am sorry I will go instead. I can't let her do this.”

Riario lets go of Nico's throat but keeps him pinned down as he stares silently at him for a while. “You need to grow up,” he says icily. “Open your eyes to the real world and how its cogs turn. You cannot go,” he spits each word venomously. “Even if I let him touch you, do you think you'd walk out of here afterwards?” He pulls his dagger from its sheath and presses it against Nico's throat instead. “Do you have any idea how many of his play things I've buried in the Vatican?”

Nico shudders as the reality of the situation becomes clear and nausea comes across him in a wave. “What have I done,” he gasps, thinking about the woman he had gotten on so well with this morning. “But I cannot let Zita face that either.” He mutters trying to think of some sort of way out for them all.

Riario pulls himself up. “It's not your fault,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed, twisting the dagger on the palm of his hand. “I am to blame. I should not have asked you to come here. I should not have let you stay.” He watches the blood begin to pool in his hand, feeling numb.

“Don't say that. I belong here with you,” Nico says, moving closer to the older man. _Maybe we could go away? Somewhere he can't find us. Maybe leave Italy,_ he thinks, trying to come up with a solution but each idea he has seems more mad and more problematic than the last.

Girolamo looks up at Nico with a profound and deep despair in his eyes. It's not like anything new has happened. The physical and emotional abuse from his father has been part of the fabric of his life. But having had Nico witness his humiliation has hit a nerve. “I didn't want you to see that,” he says softly, caressing Nico's cheek.

“I know you didn't. I don't think any less of you, in fact I think more,” Nico says softly, looking into Riario’s eyes, which are filled with so much care and worry. He briefly mirrors the count’s gesture and leans forward, brushing their lips together in a gentle kiss.

Girolamo latches on to the kiss for comfort, like a drowning man gasping for air. He pulls Nico closer, smearing his blood across his lover’s cheek and into blond locks.  

Nico returns the kiss with the same heat and passion, wrapping his arms around Riario’s back and neck, gently pushing his tongue into the count’s mouth.

For a moment Riario allows himself to give in to the kiss as he pulls Nico into his arms, further onto the bed, caressing his back and tonguing him fiercely. The warmth and the love that radiates from his young lover soothes so many wounds. “Nico,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss and begins to unfasten his tunic. “I need you to do this for me.”

Nico leans forward and places a soft kiss to Riario’s shoulder. “Anything, il mio Dominus,” he whispers as he continues to place kisses over his skin. “Anything for you.”

 _How tempting to just give in to pleasure at that moment._ “The drawer,” Riario pleads with Nico to help him save himself. “The whip. The one with the red handle…”

Nico reluctantly stops kissing his lover. He looks deep into his eyes and nods, placing another brief kiss on Riario’s lips, before moving over to the drawer and pulling out the chosen whip. He examines it briefly, swallowing as he notes the barbed edging. _I deserve this,_ he thinks as he hands it to Riario.  

“No,” the count shakes his head, not taking the whip. He gets up from the bed, discarding his tunic as he turns his back to Nico. “Five lashes,” he orders.

Nico gasps as it dawns on him what his lover wants him to do. “I…I don't know if I can,” he says, his eyes widening. 

“I'm not asking, I'm telling you!” Riario barks over his shoulder. “Surely you will not disobey me twice today?”

Nico sighs, looking worriedly at Riario’s back then the whip. He goes to lower the tool but one stern look from Riario over his shoulder is enough to stop him. He brings back the whip and swishes it forward, making it crack in the air as it comes down on his lover’s back.  

Riario bites back a curse as the tiny barbs tear at his skin, instantly making him bleed. He grabs hold of the post at the corner of his bed to steady himself. “Again!” he snaps. “I said five!”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Nico says, bringing back the whip. He wants to make his next blow lighter but dares not, knowing Riario will demand harder. He pulls back the whip a second time bringing it down with the same amount of force flinching as it hits the skin.

“Fuck,” Riario gasps under his breath. His vision flickers colourfully as he tries to embrace the stinging sharp pain. He moves his legs a little wider apart to keep balance.

Nico looks at Riario’s back, which now has blood dripping down onto his tanned skin. He longs to stop and smooth the wounds, but knows he can't. He brings the next two strikes down in quick succession.  

Riario takes a moment to catch his breath, swaying slightly, before he growls, “Can you not count, son of Bernardo dei Machiavelli?!” He digs his blunt nails into the wood of his bed post, bracing himself.

Nico pulls back the whip again _. Just one more, last one,_ he soothes himself, feeling unsure about the turn of events. He wishes it was his back bleeding and scarred, not his master’s. The whip comes down harder this time causing the marks to go even deeper and Riario to bleed heavier.

“Good,” Riario pants, steadying himself on the bed, breathing deeply. “Get… get the wine.” He motions towards the door, not looking at Nico.  

Nico drops the whip to the floor. He wants to argue that Riario’s wounds need treating, but knows better than to suggest that, and retrieves the jug of wine from the table.

Girolamo reaches out, snatching the carafe from his submissive and taking a swig straight from it. “Pour it over my back,” he hands Nico back the wine. “To numb the sting,” he adds when the youngster looks at him like he's gone mad.

 _I need a drink,_ Nico thinks taking a swig himself. He is not convinced, however he moves to Riario’s back, grimacing as he looks at the torn flesh. _You need a healer_ , he longs to argue but does as he is told pouring the alcohol onto the fresh wounds.

Girolamo hisses as the sour liquid stings his wounds even more before it offers a slight relief. “Thank you,” he sighs. “Kiss me.”

Nico does not hesitate. He gently cups his dominant’s face pushing his hair back, before brushing his lips against Riario's soft ones.

“Bene, mio angelo,” the count breathes against those perfect lips. “The black one. The black whip,” he nods to the dresser again.

Nico picks up the red one from the floor placing it back in the drawer, grabbing the black one out. _Does he want me to whip him again?_

Riario takes a deep, slow breath, grabbing the post again. “Ten lashes,” he orders huskily. “Don't you dare stop.” _Don't give me time to think about the pain._

 _He can't be serious?_ Nico stares at the plain whip and then Riario’s back. “Yes, Your Grace.” He gets into position taking a deep breath before bringing it down on the already torn flesh.  

The first lash feels like fire as it tears into his open wounds. Riario grits his teeth, forcing his mind to focus. “ _Purge me with hyssop,”_ he says out loud. _Two. “And I shall be clean.”_

Nico listens as Riario says quotes from the holy book. He feels a little in awe at how even when he is in pain he can find faith and comfort from these words. He brings down the whip for a third time biting back the apology he so desperately wants to say at the pain he is inflicting on the count.

 _“Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.” Four!_ Riario barely feels the fifth lash anymore as his body goes numb, its defences against the onslaught kicking in in full. “ _Hide your face from my sins,”_ his voice breaks as his vision blurs, “ _and blot out all my iniquities.”_ The sixth lash is just a sound now, pushing the air from his lungs as he surrenders to it, surrenders to God.

Nico listens to Riario as he gasps. He wants to whisper words of comfort, but dares not interrupt his Dominus as he recites the passage from the Bible. He closes his eyes wanting this to be over and brings the whip down again for a seventh time.  

The count’s knees give way and he sinks to the ground, only holding himself up now by sheer willpower forced into the strength in his arms. “ _Create in me a clean heart.” Eight. “O God.” Nine._ His mind clears of all his pain, all his heartache. Of his father, of Zita, even of Nico. “ _And renew a right spirit within me,”_ he whispers as a sense of peace and quiet envelopes him just before he passes out.

_Ten._

Nico sinks to his knees by his lover's head. He panics and he worries that he has done more damage than just the whip marks. “Dominus ,” Nico says softly shaking his shoulders. “Come back to me, my love.” He says when the older man doesn't stir. “Ti amo, il mio Dominus.”  

 _Ti amo…_ Girolamo feels the embrace of his angel, being wrapped into the warm comfort of his wings. In his delirium Nico is bathed in purest, brightest golden light, his angelic curls framing his face like a halo. “Ti amo, mio angelo,” he whispers, although he is not entirely sure if the words are only in his head.

At these words Nico’s heart jumps with joy. _He loves me!_ He feels complete at these words. Like his whole life has been leading towards his meeting with Riario. Like he needs him to make him whole. He leans forward and kisses Riario on the lips, bringing his hand up to stroke his hair from his sweaty brow.  

“Niccolo…?” Girolamo allows himself to curl into Nico's arms. He is too exhausted to move and he cannot feel his limbs well enough to attempt it. His body feels transparent, as if his soul is too great to be contained by its earthly confines. Like the tears in his back have allowed his wings to emerge, to let him soar through the heavens under the guidance of his very own guardian angel, even though he knows that the fires of hell are down there and that once this moment has passed he will crash straight back into the hands of the Devil. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bible Quotes
> 
> Psalm 51:7-10  
> Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.  
> Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.  
> Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.  
> Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting, Leo, Riario and Nico were at Comic Con last weekend
> 
> Leonardo written by Delorita

+++ In Florence +++

Da Vinci is sat in the middle of his large work table surrounded by books, scripts and lots of notes; his opium pipe beside him if the need arises to slow down his tumbling thoughts. He’s determined to find out why his apprentice has turned into a deviant and has searched for anything on the subject for several days and nights now. He didn’t come very far yet though since there are zero studies on the matter. He huffs in utter frustration and pulls at his hair.

“Erm, Zo,” he addresses his lover who dozes on their sleeping arrangement in the workshop, which Zo put there so Leo would go to sleep for a few moments at all. “I think you…Can you bring the whip from the upper shelf?” 

Zo’s eyes light up and he grins widely. He had begun to think that Leo wasn't going to even try the more practical side to this rather wicked experiment since he'd just buried himself in papers. Now though he is all ears. “Really?” he says a little too eager. “You actually want to do this?”

“And the shackles…” Leo scratches his nose with his pen, deep in thought, not answering the question at all as he goes and bolts the door. He surely doesn’t want Verrocchio or Vanessa as a witness for yet another tricky self-experiment.

Zo whistles through his teeth. He can hardly believe his luck. Even though it had never really crossed his mind before to try anything like this, now that the seed of the idea had been planted he had found the thought oddly arousing. Not necessarily to inflict pain on his lover. But certainly the tying up bit, having the rebellious Da Vinci at his mercy, yes, _that_ sounded rather kinky.

“Hey! What’s the smirk?” Leo jabs his lover in the side when he approaches with the requested items.

“Well,” Zo wriggles his eyebrows, “this for once might be an experiment I'm going to enjoy rather than nearly die in!”

Leonardo chuckles and pulls his lover close at the lapels of his worn jacket, pressing their lips together and kissing him thoroughly. He quickly releases him though. “Shackles,” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards the big post in the middle of his workshop.

“Yes _Dominus,_ ” Zo jests, holding up the shackles, jiggling them around.

“Tie me up,” Da Vinci stands in front of the post so Zo can shackle up his wrists in front of it. He isn’t sure if he wants to go the playful route here or just concentrate on the scientific research. He’s had lots of experiments with Zo where either of them got injured but none so far that also was a mind game. “I’m not sure if this works,” he thinks out loud. “Riario and Nico hated each other, we don’t…” he frowns.

“Well, you can be a right arse sometimes,” Zo chuckles as he fastens the shackles to the pole and then to Leo's wrists. “Why exactly have you these things in the first place?” he asks curiously.

“Well, thieves, robbers…” Leo is irritated about the question, “I never know who might enter my workshop.” He feels uncomfortable now, not able to grab for Zo anymore. “Get to work,” he orders rather harshly.

“Oy!” Zo smirks wickedly. “Surely I get to hand out the orders now!” He grabs the whip but doesn't obey Da Vinci yet, instead just watches him squirm for a bit.

Leonardo doesn’t know if it’s the proximity of his lover or the unique place he finds himself in but he feels some sort of excitement build up in his stomach and his groin. It is rare that he cannot use both his hands and it sends a super nervous tingle through his whole body. “Alright, Zo, just do something, will you?”

“I said,” Zo teases, “that you're not in charge now.” He pulls the whip back and lets it come into contact with Leo's trousers. It makes a rather muffled dull sound. “Yeah I'm not sure about this, Leo,” he frowns, “I think you're gonna have to drop them for the full effect.”

Leo wants Zo to take them off and also ruin his shirt with the whip but how does he tell him that when he has to give up control and is to keep his mouth shut? He grins to himself and wriggles his arse seductively.

“Teasing me now, are we?” Zo chuckles, getting into it now. “Well, maestro,” he steps up behind him giving his arse a slap with his bare hand, “let me help you with that then.” He pulls at the laces of Leo's slacks and in one easy movement pulls them down to around his ankles. “There we go!” he states triumphantly, slapping Leo's now bare arse again for good measure.

“Hm, do that again. I rather liked that…,” Leo bites his tongue as he realizes he's given some kind of order again, even though to him it was a plea. His cock definitely lurching up at his arse being slapped.

“Oh aye,” Zo grins as he lets his hand come down on the other cheek, forgetting the whip for now. He watches that nice arse glow a delectable pink where his hand has come down and finds his own prick stir, not least because of the grunts that are coming out of Leo's mouth. “Well, mister scientist, what's your verdict on that one then?”

Leo lets out a loud groan at that. His fingers twitching to grab for his lover but instead there is nothing but air. “Again,” he leans his forehead against the post, trying to concentrate on each sensation that courses through his body. Starting from the pleasant tingle that spreads through his buttock and down his thigh after the initial pain, to the colour that appears before his inner eye, over his growing arousal towards the anticipation he feels, awaiting the next slap. “Harder.”

“Well well,” Zo laughs. “Looks like Nico isn't as crazy as we first thought!”

He pulls his hand back and hits harder this time, actually feeling the slap hurt his hand as much as it must hurt Leo. “Er…” he says unsurely, watching that buttock flare angrily as he rubs his hand, “okay?” He actually takes a step back in case Leo decides to kick him.

Leo grits his teeth, not wanting to give in so quickly. “Try the whip, on my back,” he utters. The mild pain of the first two slaps were quite arousing but the harder one put him right off, his erection wilting.

“Alright,” Zo says, a little more hesitantly now as he's quite aware that once those shackles are off Leonardo will make him pay for every slap and lash. He picks up the black leather horse whip. “Ready?” he checks just to be sure.

“Do it,” Leo orders. He's not sure who is the dominant one here though.

“Alright then,” Zo nods. Whereas the slapping and the shackles had been fun though, suddenly this does feel more like one of Leo's crazy experiments than erotic play. He pulls back the whip and whacks it across Leo's back, not at full force but not gentle either - he knows his lover will only tell him to do it harder! - and certainly enough to tear his linen shirt.

 _Fuck!_ Da Vinci curses inwardly, not wanting to show Zo his early weakness. _How can someone want this to turn him on?_ He’s been beaten by his father often enough to know pain but the whip is something else. “Zo...Again,” he utters, feeling sweat gather at his temples, his fingers cramped into fists.

 _Really?_ Zo doesn't say it as he knows his lover well enough that he will push himself to the very edge of his endurance regardless. But he also knows what arousal looks like in him and this sure doesn't look like it. But he obliges, this time letting the whip lash a little harder, leaving a bloody streak shining through the torn material.

“Stupid fucking IDIOT!” Leo shouts as he feels the skin of his back tear. He tries to turn around. “Not you … More,” he says in a muffled voice and grinds his teeth together once more.

Zo hesitates. Even if Leo didn’t mean him with that outburst; nonetheless this has moved way beyond games now. _He broke into the Vatican in an underwater suit, both nearly drowning and being run through by the Swiss guards’ swords,_ he reminds himself that da Vinci is made of sturdier stuff. And so he lets the whip down again, this time watching with a deep frown across his brow as Leo's head snaps back in agony and he slumps forward.

A row of inaudible curses leave the maestro's mouth as pain shoots through his nervous system. The ability to think clearly fading, he notices, like in trance. Feels like when he had smoked too much opium. “Whip me more,” he slurs. His wrists starting to hurt now too where the tender skin chaves against the iron.

Zo pulls back the whip one more time, flinching himself as it tears into Leo’s back.

“Fffffffck,” Leonardo gasps. He sways, knowing that if it wasn’t for the shackles he would be slumped on the floor. It is not just the pain itself, it is the type of pain, the laying it over existing wounds again and again, that creates the odd sensation of wanting to pass out and an almost hallucinogenic exhilaration. “Again!” he moans.

But Zo shakes his head and drops the whip to the floor. “No man, this is fucked up.” He sighs, bracing himself for the argument that undoubtedly will come as he makes to unlock the shackles.

“I said more!” Leo manages with his strained breath.

“No,” Zo says stubbornly, sternly. “I will go all the way with your crazy experiments, you know that, Leo. But I will not be the hand that leaves you in pain.” He steps forward and kisses Leo’s shoulder tenderly. His lover’s sweat and pheromones tickle his nostrils.

“Fine! Fuck me then!” Leo isn't sure if he's mad at Zo for stopping on his own or relieved. He leans his head against the post once more, his legs shaking. His back throbbing like several horses walked over him. The salty sweat that runs down the nape of his neck making the open wounds burn even more.

Zo hesitates as his hand hovers over the restraint. “When you say _fuck me_ ,” he checks his understanding, “you mean…?”

“Shove your gorgeous dick up my arse, yes.”

 _Holy shit! This crazy stuff actually works?!_ “Er right, just a moment Signore,” Zo chuckles at the totally unexpected demand and change of emotion. His growing concern for his lover's welfare and sanity had not exactly helped his libido and he pushes his hand down his trousers. Still, the filthy instruction does help him into service soon enough as does the image now of Leonardo dangling half naked in the middle of his workshop, sweaty and seemingly drunk on something. “You're sure?” he checks again as he loves himself up behind his vulnerable lover.

“Hmmm,” Leo doesn't have the strength for more all of a sudden. He feels mellow and drowsy. As Zo doesn't come closer he needs all his willpower to murmur, “yes,” nodding his head slowly.

Zo grabs Leo's backside between his hands and spits onto his fingers, opening him up one by one, listening to the familiar mewls that tell him when he's ready. Sinking himself into his lover's pliant form, he wraps his arms carefully around Leonardo's exhausted body as he rocks into him.

“Zzzzooo…” Leonardo feels tears running down his cheeks as the very familiar warmth of his lover envelopes him. He can let go now, he can relax. His body tells him as he's filled up so perfectly. His cock fills too now. The sensations of pain and pleasure circling through his limbs, his gut, his groin and even his brain in a steady rhythm, making him float on the edges of his subconsciousness. “‘s nice…”

“You're an idiot you know,” Zo reprimands his lover as he rides the both of them towards even greater pleasure. “You and Nico, bonkers!” He kisses Leo's shoulders and neck carefully, wanting to make up for the pain.

“Jerk me off,” Leo moans, ignoring Zo’s complaints, trying awkwardly to turn and catch a kiss, his fingers twitching in their confines. “Bonkers, yes,” he leans his head back to be supported by Zo’s strength. The sexual stimulation feels even more intense than normally.

“Bonkers,” Zo snorts again, but he kisses Leo's sweaty hair and neck as he feels for his thickly swollen cock. “But we knew that already.” He drives his tongue into Leo's ear as he pulls him off in long sure strokes.

“Fuck, that's good,” Leo sighs. His body melting against his lover at his tender ministrations, Zo's cock caressing his pleasure button. He holds himself up with great effort, trying not to rub his back too hard against Zo’s chest but at the same time somehow wanting that curly chest hair catch in his marred skin. “Wicked…” he gasps as he registers that thought.

“Come for me then, il mio scienziato pazzo,” Zoroaster murmurs into Leo's ear, close himself now as his lover's channel massages him perfectly.

Leonardo does as the soft plea and his partner's firm hand encourage him. His climax is exquisite in an odd way. Normally he grabs for Zo as they both come undone, but with his hands bound he is robbed off the sensation to touch. His body erupts in strong waves of pleasure anyway.

“Oh Leo,” Zo moans as he feels the shockwaves of his lover throb through the both of them. It does feel very special, he must admit, for the great Leonardo da Vinci to be so utterly at his mercy. And not even from a point of view of controlling him, he realises to his surprise, but just to allow Leo to surrender that ever-busy mind of him for once just to be totally spoilt by him. He pants and groans as he climaxes inside him, pushing into him to make them both last, again and again until finally Leo's dick goes as limp as the rest of him.

“Hmmm, love...” Leonardo wants to say more but his tongue and body are like lead now as he’s filled to the brim with his lover's seed, the warm semen running down his thighs. He sighs heavily as he allows his eyes to close finally. Everything around him is mingled. A dull hum of colours, sounds and warmth. Nothing is important anymore as he drifts off.

Zo manages to catch Leo as he collapses in his arms before he hits the pole and puts his wrists out of joint. “Leo?” he whispers as he releases the shackles. He's not sure whether to be concerned or not. The shallow injuries to his back are hardly worthy of this extreme reaction and whilst Leo is the type of guy who does actually fall asleep after sex - in fact it's one of the few things that sends him to sleep and Zo had more than once dragged his overactive lover into bed just to get him to slow down for a few hours - not to the point of passing out like this. Not unless they've been a little too generous with the opium pipe.

He scoops the semi unconscious artist into his arms and carries him to their cot, stroking his hair out of his face as he tucks him in. The wounds are not bleeding anymore so he's happy to leave Leo to sleep off his ruse and tend to them when he's awake.

Then he grabs Leo's notebook and scribbles some notes in it in his coarse handwriting on Leo's physical state, as after all this was supposed to be research.

 

+++ The next morning in Rome +++

Girolamo tries to make sense of the sensations in his body. He can feel how the skin on his back snags and pulls and how every fibre in his body aches in either dull or sharp throbs. But there is also another sensation. One that does not go together with the familiar aches of penance. Of warmth and comfort. Of another body draped across his chest.

_Zita?_

No, the scent is different. Masculine... His eyes shoot open as he tries to find his bearings. Then he remembers. _Nico!_ Beautiful, angelic Nico.

Nico can feel the older man stirring. It feels almost like a dream to wake up in his strong arms. _The whip,_ he remembers vaguely, opening his blue eyes and looking into the gorgeous dark ones of his lover. “How are you feeling?” he asks, bringing his hand up to Riario’s face and stroking his cheek which now is coloured purple with bruises from his father’s beating. “I was worried.”

“Worried?” Girolamo is not sure what to make of this situation he finds himself in. He quickly notes that at least they are both semi-dressed, which offers some comfort. And whilst his mind screams at him to get up, his body is reluctant to face the reality of his injuries just yet. And so he stays put, absentmindedly stroking his fingers through Nico's hair. “And why is that?”

“Because you are my Dominus.” _Does he not remember? “_ When you passed out I thought I had done more damage to you than I originally thought,” Nico admits. _Does he not remember me telling him that I love him? Or that he returned that declaration? Did he mean it at all?_

He does not want to ask and instead thinks of Riario’s previous scars.  “Who do you normally get to help you repent?”

“No-one,” Riario smiles at the worried look on Nico's face. “God guides my hand normally.” He brushes his thumb along Nico's bottom lip. “But this time He sent me one of His angels.”

Nico blushes at Riario's words, unable to keep the huge, joyous grin off his face. “I have to admit I did not enjoy doing that to you,” he says, softly leaning his head against Riario’s heart. “But I also felt honoured to.” 

“Penance is not supposed to be enjoyable,” the count frowns. “But you helped me hear the Lord's voice and showed me a clearer path.” He tries to shift himself up but flinches as the dried blood sticks to the sheets, pulling at his inflictions.

Nico feels guilty as he watches Riario twitch and hiss with pain. _It is my fault you needed to repent in the first place. If I had stayed put..._ He curses himself. “Would you like me to bathe your wounds, Your Grace?”

Riario looks at Nico for a moment, thinking about that. Eventually he nods. “Call Zita to prepare the bath.”

Nico is a little hesitant to leave the warmth of Riario’s arms despite his offer to bathe his wounds. He places one last kiss to his chest before getting up and walking over to the silver bell. _She will hate me now._ Nico thinks sadly as the memories of the previous day come flooding back, as he pulls the cord for the bell.

 

+++ Back in Florence +++

When Leonardo wakes he feels completely disorientated. As he turns on his back the immediate sting makes him shoot up straight. He also feels the evidence of a good fuck stick to his groin and his back side. But his mind seems to be oddly blank. As he wants to comb his hands through his hair he notices the marks of the shackles on his wrists.

“Zo?” he calls out hoarsely.  But his lover is nowhere to be seen.

He notices his notebook on the other side of the bed and grabs it to have a look if he wrote something down the evening before in his delirium. He does a double take when instead of his own he recognises Zoroaster’s coarse handwriting and starts to grin as he reads the hastily scribbled notes.

“Well well look who's awake!” Zo looks at his boyfriend from the doorway, grinning. “Breakfast has been and gone, but I was about to have some lunch. Hungry?”

“Thank you,” Leo whispers very uncharacteristically, looking up at Zo from under his wild hair, sitting cross legged on the bed, “you’re the best.” He waves the book at him, totally ignoring the question about food.

“Well,” Zo shrugs as he puts a beaker in front of Leo and leans in to kiss him briefly, “you were pretty out of it.” He cocks his head. “How's your back?”

“Itchy, could you…” Leo takes the water gratefully and gulps it down in one go. “I still don’t really understand this,” he says more to himself than his lover, chewing on his pencil as he tries to remember his own sensations. “It’s like …” he trails off as his thoughts turn inward and his one hand scribbles as the other makes similar motions in the air.

Zo sits down on the edge of the bed and lifts Leo's torn shirt, drawing an angry hiss when the material pulls at the dried blood. “It doesn't look too bad,” he concludes to his own relief. “Let me get a cloth to clean you up.”

Da Vinci pulls the ruined clothing over his head, throwing it into the corner, “I feel like I need a bath. You?”

Zo takes his face in his large hands and kisses Leo's lips, “Yes, you crazy motherfucker,” he snorts, jumping back to his feet as he holds out his hand to help his love up.

 

+++ In Rome +++

When Zita opens the door to her master's chambers her eyes are cast down in shame. But when she finds Nico rather than Girolamo greeting her she slowly raises her head and frowns in concern. “Where is His Grace?” she asks a little coolly.

Guilt eats away at Nico like a tumour. Guilt that he had caused so much suffering and pain from his actions both for his lover and Zita. “He is in bed. He asked if you would run him a bath.” Nico examines her features for any sign of injuries and flinches as he sees the finger-shaped bruises on her neck. “I am s…”

But Zita quickly pulls her shawl across the marks and brushes past Nico. “Of course I will,” she says, wondering why Girolamo had not rung the bell himself. She stops and turns back to Nico, lowering her voice. “What did he do to himself?”

Nico gulps. “H-he didn't do anything. I…..” He stops again, feeling ashamed of his actions, both at carrying out the orders to whip his lover and the fact that they were needed in the first place. “He ordered me,” he says softly.

Zita opens her mouth to ask _what,_ but she bites her tongue. She knows full well how the count chooses to _share_ her burden when His Holiness demands her company. How he punishes himself for his father's behaviour. Once she'd asked him not to. But he'd explained to her it was the only way he could find peace with himself. They had silently agreed not to talk about each other's sorrow anymore, finding more comfort in the unspoken understanding between them. “Go to him,” she tells Nico. “I will prepare His Grace’ bath.”

“Thank you Zita.” Nico replies turning back to the room. “I am so sorry,” he manages to add this time before she can stop him. “It's all my fault.”

“Wait,” Zita calls out softly. She straightens herself, looking at Nico with empathy. “Nico,” she says seriously, “to be able to live in this world, you must not take the blame for the cruelty of others. We are all just trying to survive.”

Nico turns to face Zita again. He looks into her eyes and can see that she truly does not blame him at all. _She is so strong, so fierce against this world,_ he thinks, giving her a little nod. “Thank you, I will try to remember that,” he says with a little smile. 

Zita returns the soft smile. She can only guess why the boy blames himself for her pain. But he needs to understand that it's them against the man who holds all of them captive, in one way or another. Silently she turns her back and begins to boil the water in the hearth.

 

+++ In Florence +++

Leonardo tries to suppress his hissing as not long later he immerses himself into the hot water of their bath. _Hold it together, you’re no child!_ He reprimands himself.

“What do you think of the whole experiment?” he looks up at Zo as he slides opposite him into the tub. While the magician had written down facts, he had failed to mention any feelings, which are so important to his studies on a subject such as this.

“Well,” Zo thinks as he rubs Leo's legs as he threads them around him, “I guess part of it was kinda exhilarating. But the whipping…” He shakes his head. “I didn't enjoy that. There are some people I'd be happy to give that treatment. But not the man I love.” He looks up at Leo, smiling. “And you?”

Leonardo takes his lover's face in his hands and kisses him thoroughly. “I... Somehow in the end, I … I enjoyed being bound, my hands forced to be still.” He looks down a little embarrassed, threading their fingers together in the water, “but yeah, the whipping I can do without. Reminds me too much of prison and my father's goons.” Leo kisses Zo’s knuckles lost in thought, “So there's still the question why does someone endure this willingly and gets off on it? To the point of leaving his former life behind…”

“Can I throw something in there?” Zo asks. He always feels a little inadequate when it comes to Leo's research as he just cannot keep up with his lover's brilliant brain. But on the other hand this is how they work, putting ideas out there until suddenly Leonardo gets that look as if he has an epiphany. “From where I was standing it looked like you were kinda high. As if you'd taken opium.”

Leo's eyes snap towards Zo’s. “The hand slapping was, of course, endurable and…,” he grins, “stimulating in some way.” He reaches for the jug of water and dumps it straight over his own head, sputtering.

“Certainly by the time I was done with ya, you were out cold,” Zo pours water over Leo's shoulders. “I'd like to think it was my outstanding performance,” he grins, “but I guess there was more going on. You were practically slurring and incoherent in the end.”

“You always give an outstanding performance,” Leo praises, thinking though. “That’s interesting,” he soaps Zo’s chest with obsession. “Ah!” he exclaims after several moments of studying the curls of his lover’s coarse chest hair, making Zo jump. “The accumulation of the constant pain somehow tricks the brain and subdues the senses. So the submissive _does_ experience some sort of high,” the scientist gathers his notebook from the floor and scribbles the thought down, leaving moist and soapy stains on the precious pages. “Some sort of chemical reaction. Like … the exhilaration of a sword fight. Or …” he rubs his eyes and regrets it immediately as the greasy soap stings them, “… like flying!” he almost shouts his excitement.

“Really?” Zo blinks at Leo that his guess had been remarkably accurate. “Well if that is all it is surely there are easier ways?” He wiggles his toes teasingly against Leo's balls. “Perhaps we need to try it the other way around at some point…” he suggests casually.

Leonardo looks up from his page slowly, “I thought about that earlier…” he can’t hide the grin that appears around his mouth. “All in the name of science, of course… _if_ you’d be willing to be my subject.” He feels a pleasant warmth spread around his groin at the unusual massage. _Or is it the thought of the new experiment?_

“Of course,” Zo looks at Leo playfully. “However, I think that we should just make sure that everything still works as it should.” He reaches forward to massage Leo's soft dick, feeling it grow pleasantly in his hand. “Without all the crazy stuff. You know, just to make sure we can still do it just as well without?” he winks.

“Hmm,” Leo throws his book and coal on the floor and mirrors Zo’s action beneath the water. “Just to make sure,” he whispers close to his lover’s lips. He loves the sensation of Zoroaster’s growing flesh against his palms. He’ll never get tired of studying that.

 

+++ In the Captain General’s Quarters in Rome +++

As Nico re-enters the count’s bedchamber he finds that Riario has his eyes closed. He takes a couple of seconds to watch on as his lover looks so at peace and then slowly walks across the room. He slides back into the bed running his fingers through Riario’s locks. “You are beautiful.” 

The count jolts awake, realising he'd fallen asleep again. “Nico,” he blinks. “Where's Zita?”

“She is filling your bath, Your Grace.” Nico replies, wishing they could both just go back to sleep.

“You should not be here,” Girolamo argues without conviction as he leans into Nico's gentle touch.

Nico wraps his arms around his lover, careful not to catch any of  the fresh wounds. “We need to dress those,” he says indicating to Riario’s back, “to make sure infection doesn't take.”

“It will be fine,” the count dismisses Nico's concern as he pushes himself up. “Zita makes paste with honey.” He grins, “Between the two of you I will not get a chance to die,” he mocks, wincing as he pulls himself out of bed.

“Why honey?” Nico frowns as he gets up from the bed also, noting that Leo had never used that.

Riario raises are eyebrow. “Do I look like a healer to you?” He wants to wave Nico's hand away, but his back protests at his stubbornness and so he allows Nico to help him steady himself. “Anyway, you and Zita appear to have found some sort of understanding,” he observes the change in attitude from his blond apprentice now when he mentions her name. _Is it just guilt? Or is he truly learning to see beyond his infantile emotions?_

“When you left yesterday, Zita came back and we got talking.” Nico admits keeping a grip on Riario’s arm as he sways unsteady on his feet. “I was jealous before, but I understand now.  I was wrong about her and I can see how much you mean to each other.” 

Riario nods slowly, for a moment words balancing on his tongue that he is quick to swallow. “She is very dear to me,” he croaks. “As are you,” he adds a little hesitantly.

Nico gasps with surprise as Riario says this, all sorts of emotions soar through his body. _Is this his way of a love confession?_ He thinks back to the whispered words of love the night before between them. “Ti amo, il mio Dominus.”

The count freezes. “Don't say that,” he breathes heavily. “Whatever ideas Da Vinci has given you, remember that it nearly cost him his life!” he snaps.

Nico thinks about all the troubles Leonardo had because of his relationship with Zo. While to him it really doesn't matter whom anyone loves, he knows the world isn't open to that view, especially not the Catholic Church. “I am sorry, Your Grace.” He keeps his arm on Riario to steady him as he can see him sway. “I should not have said it.” _Even though I do love you._

Girolamo hesitates a moment, but then cups Nico's face in his hands, looking at him intently. “You will find a greater love than what you think is in your heart right now. One that transcends all mortal sin. I will help you find that true devotion, Nico.”

Nico nods briefly leaning his head against Riario's. “Yes, your Grace,” he agrees, wishing to kiss the count still, but restraining himself. “Let's get your back seen to.” He helps Riario walk into the room next door where Zita is waiting. 

Zita looks at the count with pain in her eyes when she sees how heavy a price he'd decided he had had to pay this time. She looks briefly at Nico, but then makes the decision that they have all already overstepped the normal boundaries between them. And so she shoulders Count Riario on his other side, guiding him towards the tub.

“Thank you, Zita,” Girolamo smiles warmly at her. “Nico will help me bathe. Would you please prepare your remedy?”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Zita curtsies with a smile. Then she bends herself a little towards the count, saying softly. “After, may I speak with Your Grace. In private?”

Riario frowns but nods. “Of course.”

Nico watches the exchange and frowns but doesn't say anything. He watches her leave then turns back to Riario. “Would you like me to help you with your clothing, Your Grace?” 

The count coughs, shaking his head. “A moment?” he asks for some privacy as he turns his back.

“I'll be just outside,” Nico says, blushing, before leaving the room. He cannot help himself though as he peeks through the gap in the door as his lover takes off his clothing. He wishes he could reach out and touch his body, to feel the heat of his skin. He knows he cannot, but the thought alone makes his own manhood begin to harden. He feels like he is watching his own erotic show as Riario takes of his undergarments. _Control your body! If you can't, do not watch!_

Girolamo lowers himself into the tub, hissing as the hot water stings his back. At least it takes his mind off the boy whose eyes he can feel upon him from beyond the door. “Nico!” he calls once he's lowered himself into the water; his lower half only marginally less exposed.

 _He knows!_ Nico thinks before returning to the room and trying to get his body back in check. “Yes, Your Grace.” He wishes the colour would go from his cheeks as he nears the count. 

Riario throws Nico a warning look, but says nothing. “There is a flannel by the hearth,” he instructs, trying to sound as normal as he can muster. _Think of him as were he a servant boy._

Nico retrieves the flannel from the appointed place, bringing it back to Riario and putting it in the water to make it damp. “Would you like me to bathe your back?”

The count nods, closing his eyes to focus his mind and embrace the discomfort that will follow.

Nico gently places the damp flannel to Riario's raw skin. He flinches when his lover hisses. _I am sorry_ , he thinks again as he gently cleanses his wounds.

He can feel excitement fizzle through him as he rinses the blood out of the flannel. His eyes wander over Riario’s naked form to the water, which covers that which he wants to see most. _You cannot touch,_ he reminds himself as he can feel his hand moving towards the water, towards the forbidden treasure beneath the water, and quickly pulls it back.

He tries to make this what it is, a gesture of care for his lover, but his mind is going in overdrive. _Calm down, don't think with your cock!_ he repeats over and over, as his manhood throbs between his legs. He is grateful to be clothed so he can hide his sin from his lover, but can feel his face heat. _Concentrate on your task, your task to clean Riario._

Girolamo can sense Nico's predicament all too well and in his exposed state it is much harder to ignore the Devil's call. He tries to focus on the pain but eventually even that no longer helps to keep the longing thoughts - _yes, my sweet angel, I want you to touch me_ \- from his mind.

“Enough!” he says harshly, jumping up as much as both the confined space and his aches allow him. “Bring me a towel,” he orders as he remains standing still with his back towards the younger man.

Nico jumps at the sudden order but does as he is told, rushing over to a chair nearby and getting the towel that Zita had left on the back. He brings it back to the count, who snatches it out of his hand.

“Leave me,” Riario dismisses Nico. “Tell Zita I will speak with her now.” He hastily begins to dry himself.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Nico replies a little sadly to get dismissed for the woman again, but he quietly and quickly leaves the room to find her.

“Your Grace, may I come in?” Zita asks softly. When he calls her in she has to stifle her gasp when she sees his bare back. “Oh Girolamo,” she says with a deep ache in her voice as she walks over to him with the salve. “Why must God punish you for your father's acts?” she cannot help but ask as she begins to carefully rub the honey onto his wounds.

“Perhaps it's not God punishing me,” Girolamo answers to her surprise, but she nods.

“Then why must you punish yourself?” she asks against better judgement. “You know I do not wish to see these wounds on you Girolamo.” Quietly she adds, “They remind me of _him_.”

Riario thinks about that. He'd not thought of that before. The marks of chastisement had always been a relief, a mark of control, when he felt like nothing else was in his control.

He sighs blissfully when he feels Zita's lips carefully on his back, soothing his pain. “They make me feel better,” he says softly. “I had not given it thought that they may make you feel worse.” He turns around and looks at Zita, carefully tilting her head to the side. “I punish myself because I can kill a thousand men without mercy and yet I let my father do this to the only woman I care for. What sort of a man does that make me? A coward!”

“No,” Zita shakes her head. “We all look up to our parents, even when they are cruel. You are no coward for serving your father, but a good and loving son, Girolamo. Your father is the coward for hiding behind his brutality. For he fears love.”

“ _It is better to be feared than loved_ , _Girolamo_ ,” Riario recites one of his father's favourite sayings whenever he used to beat him into submission.

“God would not agree with that,” Zita looks intently at the man who has her heart.

“Perhaps,” the count sighs as he allows her to bandage him to allow the paste to work. “Is that what you came to tell me?”

“No,” Zita says softly, helping the count into his tunic. “I came to warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Your father was not satisfied by my presence,” Zita says very quietly, bowing her head in shame again. “He will come for the boy. You may have to act more quickly than planned,” she says tentatively, his warning that this cannot be rushed ringing in her head. “And send him back to Florence.”

“Or,” the count caresses her face softly, “I just have to ensure that my father cannot find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> il mio scienziato pazzo - my crazy scientist


	7. Mark 9:35

“Where are we going, Your Grace?” Nico asks as Riario drags him along an endless dark narrow passageway. Their feet echo on the floor in a staccato rhythm that is all the more eerie because of the lack of any other sound. As if Riario is dragging him down to hell itself, abandoning all life on earth. Even the rats have stopped scuttling past. _We should not be here!_ he thinks.

They have been walking for quite some time and Riario is yet to release the tight iron grip on his wrists. Nico can see the worry across his lover's face when the light of his torch falls across it. But the count continues to pull him further down the passageway, every now and then looking behind them.

“Your Grace, what is going on?”

Riario stops so abruptly in the darkness Nico almost loses his footing, bumping into him. “Will you stop these questions!” the count hisses at him, glaring into his eyes. “Or will you have the guards after us?!”

“But why can I not stay in the Vatican?” Nico asks, but does lower his voice. “I thought your father no longer requires me?”  

The count backhands Nico firmly across the cheek. “Never call him that! Do you understand me?! To you, as to anyone else, he is the Holy Father!”

Nico rubs at his face with his hand. “Yes, Dominus. I am sorry. I just don't understand the sudden urgency,” he tries to take a step back as he can see Riario's anger flare. “I apologise. I will stop talking now and have faith in you.”   

If it wasn't for the situation the count would laugh. No-one speaks to him the way Nico does and in a way it is refreshing. But they have no time for idle talk. And so he precedes to lead the young man down the Passetto di Borgo as fast as the semi-darkness allows until they reach the spiralling corridor that leads them into the fortress.

He stops again, looking at Nico with clear and real threat in his eyes. “Do not speak, do not make any noise, I want you to barely breathe,” he whispers harshly. “I will answer your questions later. Right now all you need to know is that you are a word away from being tortured. And not by me.”

Nico’s eyes widen and he nods to show his understanding, heeding his lover’s warning. _Why is he taking me here if here I am at risk of being tortured? Have I done something wrong? Does he no longer want me around him? Then why does he not send me back to Florence?_ he worries, but does not fight Riario any longer. _Don't be stupid Nico of course he wants you around_ , he thinks, knowing whatever this is about deep down he trusts Riario to do what is best for him as his dominant.  

Riario slows their pace as the passageway widens, listening for any sign of the guards. He knows their shift pattern like the back of his hand, but of course there is always a chance of something not being exactly as expected. Life as the sword of the church has taught him to always be on his guard. However, when he's greeted by nothing but silence he pulls Nico quickly with him, taking him down a smaller corridor off the main spiral hall and down a long steep flight of stairs. Only when they reach the end of the stairs and come to a heavy wooden door, he dares breathe again.

He pulls the keychain from his belt, flicking through the various marked keys until he finds the one he's looking for. The door creaks open way too loudly and he expects footsteps at any moment. Hastily he pushes Nico into the next corridor and closes the door behind them, listening.

“Follow me,” he orders when all remains quiet.

They walk through another maze of endless corridors taking them deeper and deeper underground, until the count finally stops in front of one of the last doors. He unlocks it, steps down the low step and pulls Nico wordlessly inside, locking the door behind them.

Nico looks around the dark room trying to make out any of the contents for a clue of where they are and what they might be doing here, but the only thing he can make out is a small metal cot style bed that is chained to the wall. “Why are we here, Your Grace?” he asks again, this time making sure his voice is barely above a whisper.  

“This is temporary,” Riario answers as he lights the torch on the wall. His emotions are mixed, both feeling guilty about taking Nico from the comfort and luxury of the Vatican into the bare prison of the fortress but also feeling relief that he is safe here. There are no prisoners here right now. And he would be the first to know if there would be. Besides, it is the last place his father would look for the boy, right underneath his nose. “I shall bring you the necessaries.”

He turns back to Nico, smiling at his _prisoner_. “You should not need any more than that to find God. Here you are safe in His hands. Welcome to Castel Sant’Angelo, my angel.”

“ _This_ … is my new home?” Nico asks looking around what he now realises is a prison cell. Now that the torch is lit he can make out a little more of the room. He notes a holy Bible on a wooden table in the corner, but that is all. _At least I will have something to occupy my mind, while I am here._ He looks at the floor noting it is covered in a layer of straw _._ His eyes move to the stone wall which has shackles built into it at different heights. _Surely he won't keep me here?!_ “Is this my punishment for my disobedience. For causing you and Zita harm?”

Riario flinches at the reminder but pushes the emotion away. “I told you I would keep you safe,” he says coolly, looking around the small cell. _It is perfect_ , he decides. The walls here are up to a metre thick on the inside alone. He turns back to Nico, smirking. “You came to me,” he reminds the boy, “for a very specific reason. Or have you now changed your mind? I could send you back to Florence…” he threatens.

Nico shakes his head. “No, please do not send me back to Florence.” He takes a seat on the little bed. _I want to be here with you._

Riario smiles at that, sitting himself down next to Nico, stroking his hair. “It's better this way,” he soothes. “Here we can concentrate on your lessons. _He_ will not come down here.” He caresses Nico’s soft cheek, sighing at the thought of leaving him here nonetheless.

Nico closes his eyes allowing the gentle touch soothe him. He trusts his dominant with all of his heart but a little part of him cannot help but worry that he will be forgotten being this far away. “Is anyone else here?”  

“Upstairs yes,” Riario says. “These are the papal quarters, but His Holiness does not use these as he prefers his residence in St Peter’s Basilica.” He plays with Nico’s curls between his fingers. “There is one other _guest_ down here ...” he says hesitantly. “A very special guest.”

“And who is that?” Nico asks as his eyes dart around the room again and then rest on Riario’s brown ones. He looks deep into his eyes and can see so much care in them, which soothes away the last of his worry.

Riario thinks for a moment whether to share this secret with Nico. “Come. I will show you,” he decides.

Nico gets up from the bed, following his lover out of the door and back up the underground tunnel. _How far underground are we?_ he wonders opening his mouth to say this but then closing it again as he remembers Riario's warning from earlier.

“Wait here,” Riario orders Nico as he opens another set of doors. He disappears beyond them for what feels like hours as Nico nervously looks around the barren, empty corridor. “Come,” the command finally comes.

Nico slowly makes his way through the doors. _No-one would ever find me here,_ he realises, suddenly understanding why Riario had chosen this place to hide him. He gives Riario a nervous smile when he appears into sight again. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Your Holiness,” the count kneels before the prisoner inside the barred room. “May I introduce you to Niccolò di Bernardo dei Machiavelli.”

Nico’s heart skips a beat at that. _He betrayed me?! After everything he has brought me straight to his father?!_ He takes a few steps back. _How do I get out of here?_ he panics, trying to retrace their steps in his mind, but coming up blank. _We are too deep down, I will not be able to find my way through all the different corridors._  

“Come child,” the chained figure in the shadows says with a kind voice. “Show me your face.”

 _The voice is different. It's kind,_ Nico realises, taking a tentative step forward so he is visible. He looks at the figure who appears from the shadows and is surprised to find what looks like a beggar in rags looking back at him. But the eyes … Then it dawns on him. _This is the real Pope!_

 _“_ Your Holiness!” he gasps, dropping instantly to his knees  

“You have kind and keen eyes,” Francesco della Rovere observes from his prison. “My nephew has told me about you, apprentice of Leonardo da Vinci.”

 

Nico looks at Riario. _He has spoken about me_ , he thinks, both surprised and flattered. “Thank you, Your Holiness.”  

Girolamo rises to his feet, pulling Nico up and pushing him forward a little.

Francesco steps fully out of the shadows, looking the boy slowly up and down. “Why are you here, boy? Why have you come to Rome?”

“I have come to Rome to embrace God and His teachings.” Nico says, starring to relax. _While he and the fake Pope may sound alike, in personality they seem completely different. “_ Lord Riario has been kind enough to help me.”

“God?” Francesco raises his bushy eyebrows. “And what do you think God is going to give you that Da Vinci will not?”

“I …” Nico frowns at that strange comment, coming from the man who is God’s voice on earth. _It’s a test,_ he realises. “I wish to live a virtuous life,” he replies confidently looking God's representative in the eyes. “And renounce my sins.” He looks to Riario to confirm he is saying the correct things.

The count nods, pleased with his submissive.

“Is that what my nephew is teaching you?” Francesco smirks. “Or perhaps my brother. Have you met my brother, Master Machiavelli?” The man inside the cage sits himself down awkwardly as his chains hamper his movements.

At this Nico can feel himself pale. “Yes, Your Holiness, I have briefly met your brother.” _I have had that misfortune._ He looks at the Pope with sympathy. _I wonder how long he has been locked up here._

Francesco looks at the boy quietly for a while, his eyes penetrating the silence between them. Then he says, “Your master, he's accompanied by a man who calls himself the Zoroaster of Peretola. An interesting title, don't you think?”

Riario observes the interaction warily, his arms crossed as he tries to decide the moment at which this conversation is over.

“I have only ever known him as Zo, Your Holiness,” Nico says tentatively. _I did not even know he had a title._

Francesco just smiles as he folds his hands together, the stump where his nephew had removed his finger clearly visible. “Girolamo tells me that your master has the other key. What do you know of the Book of Leaves, Niccolo Machiavelli?”

“I think it is time that we left His Holiness to rest,” Riario takes a step towards Nico, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I only know what Leonardo has told me, Your Holiness. Do you know much about the Book of Leaves?” Nico asks, trying to move a little nearer but Riario squeezes his shoulder and he takes it as a warning not to push the subject.

“Ask your master about the Sons of Mithras,” Francesco adds as a last comment, knowing that this quick encounter has come to an end.

“Goodnight uncle,” Riario indeed cuts off the conversation as he abruptly steers Nico towards the door.

“What about the Sons of Mithras?” Nico asks the second they get out of the door.

“My uncle has been locked up too long. I fear for the sanity of his mind,” Riario says as he marches Nico back towards his cell.

 _Why is he avoiding the question? Have I not proven I can be trusted?_ Nico wonders but does not say this. “How often do you visit your uncle?”

Riario is surprised at that question. He locks the door behind them looking down on Nico as he sits himself on the chained bed again. “I used to visit him more,” he admits quietly.

Nico nods swallowing. He hesitates if to ask his next question for fear of the answer and he also doesn't want to annoy his older lover. “And how often will you visit me, Dominus?”  

“Oh Nico,” Riario laughs at that. “Do you think I put you here to forget about you? Oh no. You are a treasure to be gazed upon whenever I can.” He walks up to the youngster, caressing his cheek with the back of his fingers. “I promise you this is only until…” he swallows his sentence, smiling wryly at the boy. “Zita will bring food when I cannot. And you must read,” he nods to the Bible.

“I will,” Nico agrees picking it up from the table and placing it on his lap. “I am sorry I did not listen to your warnings about the Pope and I know you want to keep me safe. Thank you, Dominus.”

The count is taken by surprise by the apology. “Anything for mio angelo,” he smiles.

Nico gives Riario a smile back, then has an idea _. “_ Can you bring me a pen and paper when you next visit?”

“Of course,” Riario says, but then hesitates. “What for?”

“I would like to start a journal of my time here, of my thoughts,” Nico explains, fiddling with one of the shackles in the wall. “And to copy some passages from the Bible.”

The count smiles and nods, “That I can do.”

 

+++ The next morning in the Vatican +++

“Take this to Nico,” Riario hands Zita the small leather-bound book, a quill and pot of ink.

Zita nods but looks at Riario with concern. “Why keep the boy locked up here?” she asks softly. “Will you not send him back to Florence?”

“I will,” the count says as he sits himself down behind his desk. “When he wants to go back to Florence. When he's ready.”

Zita looks at the count for a few moments as he begins to scribble notes onto his papers, observing his body language carefully, wondering whether he needs the boy more than he is willing to admit. And not just because of the key …

“Anything else you wish me to take, My Lord?” she asks carefully as he'd effectively already dismissed her. “For His Holiness perhaps?” she adds when Riario does not respond.

The count puts his pen down and looks up at her. “No. I have already spoken with him yesterday.” He sighs, shaking his head.

Zita can see the frustration and disappointment in the count’s eyes and walks back to him. She lays her hands on his shoulders and gently massages the tension knots there. “Girolamo,” she says softly, “are you sure that the boy will help you get the other key?”

“Yes,” Riario answers without question. “Once he understands its importance. When I've shown him the true path.”

Zita is not convinced but she does not argue the point. “And if he does, and if you find the Book, Your Grace, you are sure that your uncle will reclaim the papal throne?” she drops her voice into a whisper. _And release us both from the prison of your father…_

Riario smiles a little at her. “I must trust that this is God's plan.” He tilts his head back and strokes her face lovingly. “Have faith.”

 

+++ Inside Castel Sant’Angelo +++

Nico is deep in thought, thinking about everything from the conversation earlier. _Does the count really not know anything about the Sons of Mithras? Or is he hiding something? I wonder if I could visit the Pope again? Would Leonardo know?_

He jumps as he hears the mechanics of the door lock click. _Riario has come back!_ he thinks excitedly getting up from the old bed. But his grin slides as he looks at the eyes of Zita rather than those deep pools of his lover. “Good evening, Zita.”

Zita curtsies out of habit and then puts the tray of food down before the young man. “His Grace asked me to give you this as well,” she pulls the book and the writing tools from the pockets of her skirts.

“Grazie,” Nico says, accepting the tools. He opens the book excitedly, hoping for a message from his lover but feels disappointed as the pages are still blank. He picks up a chicken leg from the plate, taking a large mouthful as his stomach growls. “How is Count Riario?”

Zita looks at Nico as she pours his wine. “He is concerned for your welfare,” she says softly.

Nico smiles at this. “Please tell him I am fine, and have been continuing with my studies of the Holy Book.” He hesitates a moment, but then asks, “Zita, do you know anything about the Sons of Mithras?”

Zita raises her eyes to Nico. Count Riario had warned that he might ask her that so it comes as no surprise. “I am but a humble servant, Signore Machiavelli,” she states. “But,” she takes a step forward, lowering her voice, “His Grace tells me there is a book. A tome of great knowledge that is now lost to mankind. And it could endanger us all if such a relic were to fall in the wrong hands.”

 _The Book of Leaves!_ Nico realises listening intently to the servant woman. _Would Leo finding it be such a danger? I know he would not mean to hurt anyone._ “Has His Grace said what would happen?”   

Zita sits herself down beside Nico. “His Grace believes that when opened it would set in motion the divine apocalypse.” She looks pleadingly at Nico. “Which is why it must be brought here, to be kept safe by His Holiness, God’s most loyal servant.”

Nico feels torn between his best friend and his lover, knowing that if Riario had the other key, it would help. He takes a bite from his food. _Maybe I could persuade Leo to give Riario the key,_ he thinks, but snorts as he thinks how unlikely that is. “I would help if I could.”

Zita suppresses a frustrated sigh, knowing it's not her place to push the matter further. After all if it was that easy, Count Riario would not go through this much trouble. “Thank you,” she offers a kind smile, getting up. “Is there anything else I may be of help with?”

Nico shakes his head. “No, thank you.” He smiles at Zita. “You are a good friend, coming to see me.” He knows she has only come to see him because Riario has ordered her but cannot help feel warmth towards the coloured woman.

“You are a friend of my master,” Zita curtsies again. “He will visit you later this evening,” she passes on Girolamo's message before excusing herself.

Nico smiles. _My Dominus is going to visit!_ He pulls up his blanket deciding to get a little sleep before his lover visits.

 

+++ Late evening in Florence +++

The whip comes down again, pushing the air from his lungs with its sharp bite. His knees buckle briefly but he quickly recovers, widening his stance to brace himself for the next hit.

“More! Again!” he gasps.

“The key, Leonardo,” the voice from his tormentor comes. “Where is the key to the Vault of Heaven?”

_Riario!_

The artist feels his cock throb as the count's gravelly voice whispers in his ear.

He smirks, gritting his teeth once more. “Hit me and I might just tell you,” he teases his executioner.

“I can believe you are enjoying this,” Riario sneers as he walks forward to yank Leo's head back by his hair.

Leonardo grins back. He's not scared of this man. He's had enough beatings in his life to just see it through. But this is different. Perhaps Riario is right. He _is_ enjoying this. He enjoys being the focus of his undivided attention. He enjoys the game of power between them; of seeing how far the count can push him and who will be the first to break.

Riario's face hovers so very close to his when he sneers at him. Oh, how he longs to take that wicked mouth and wipe that arrogant grin off his face with a ferocious kiss.

“I think you are too,” he winks, lowering his eyes to slide down Riario's bare chest, landing on his tight black bulging trousers.  

He laughs when he feels the cool blade of a dagger being pressed against his throat. To be at this man's mercy, his hands tied in chains. “You need me,” he pushes. “I know you won't kill me.”

The count smirks again, his dark eyes piercing deep into his soul. “I guess we need each other, artista.”

_Artista._

Leonardo feels the almost gently spoken word whirl around in his head as he slowly opens his eyes and blinks. _What the fuck?_ He rubs his hands across his face and looks at his wrists. No shackles. He rubs his back across the mattress. No pain.

He frowns; his boner is real though.

He looks over at Zo who snores softly. _A dream about Count Riario whipping me is giving me a hard on? Interesting!_ He reaches for his notebook and writes it down in code, just in case … Zo sure won’t appreciate to learn about that.

 

+++ At the same time in Castel Sant’Angelo +++

Riario feels his excitement rise as he walks at a fast pace down the long steps leading to the cells underneath the Fortress of Angels. Everything about this new situation is adding to the perfect fantasy and already his mind is whirling with possibilities.

 _Focus!_ he harshly reminds himself as he sticks the key in the lock.

Nico looks up as he hears the lock, closing the leather bound writing book. A smile spreads across his face as this time he sees his lover. “Good evening, Your Grace,” he says, getting up from the bed and walking over to his lover, brushing his lips against Riario's.

Riario freezes under the forward gesture and holds Nico back. “Mio angelo,” he says kindly, but sternly, “remember your place and do not indulge in these Florentine habits.”

Nico averts his eyes to the floor. In his eagerness to see the older man he had forgotten the rules of their arrangement. “Yes, Dominus. I apologise.”

The count smiles and brushes Nico's curls back affectionately. “How have you been? Did you get the book and ink I asked Zita to bring you?”

Nico enjoys his lover's touch as he strokes his long fingers through his hair. “Yes, I have been writing since Zita brought them to me,” he says, indicating to the book open on the bed.

“Good,” Girolamo smiles at Nico. “Tell me what you've learnt. Which passages were revealed to you, my Niccolo?”

Nico walks back over to the bed retrieving the notebook and bringing it back to his lover.

“ _If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness_.”   

Riario smiles contently at his pupil. “And have you?” he asks, looking at the younger man intently. “Confessed your sins?”

“Yes I have confessed my sins to God.” Nico smiles back at Riario. “I find reading the holy text, helps me embrace my faith.” He picks up the book and rereads what he has written.

The count sits himself down on the wood that serves as a bed. “I know that this accommodation is not how a guest of Rome should expect to be treated.” He cocks his head at Nico, “but God does not need gold and riches. We must never forget that our Lord Jesus was a carpenter when He began His ministry. Christ taught us humility. _Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all._

In this place,” he waves his hand around the cell, “you have no distractions. You are alone with God. There is no greater honour.”  

Nico kneels by Riario’s legs, taking in every bit of wisdom from his mentor. “I feel honoured to be close to God, to ponder on his teachings to us his children.” He leans his head against Riario’s leg. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Riario pulls his fingers gently through Nico's curls. He looks up at the blind walls, the stony ceiling, and a sense of peace settles inside of him. “I was raised in a monastery,” he reveals, his fingers still playing with Nico's soft curls. “This place reminds me of the sleeping chambers there. I used to listen to the monks recite their prayers from dawn to dusk and it felt so… peaceful.”

Nico tries to imagine what it would be like to be raised in a place like this. He looks around the stone room, then up at Riario. “I can imagine how close to God you must have felt. Although it must have been lonely,” he thinks outloud.

Riario blinks slowly, his gaze distancing into the past. “It was good to be alone,” he whispers hoarsely. “When I could feel God's presence and no-one else's. And I knew I would be safe. Until the Devil would come…” He takes a sharp breath and pinches the bridge of his nose to bring himself back to the present. “You are safe here,” he gives Nico a wry smile, getting up quickly. “I will make sure that he never finds you here.”

Nico doesn't have to ask who ‘he’ is, knowing that Riario refers to the fake pope. He stays on his knees by the bed looking up at the count's face. “Thank you for keeping me safe here,” Nico says suddenly seeing the cell in a different way as he thinks on Riario's words. “Is there any passage you would like me to study?”

“Yes,” Riario smiles sweetly at Nico as the young man lines himself up so perfectly for his plan. “I need you to read the Book of Revelation. I need you to read it very very carefully.” He holds out his hand to Nico with the seal of his aristocracy around the finger, demanding silently for submission.

Nico leans forward without hesitation placing his lips on the jewellery, kissing it softly. “Your Grace, thank you for your guidance,” he promises giving the ring a second kiss.

 _The_ _Book of Revelations_ … He thinks back to what Zita had said about the Book of Leaves and that opening it would bring about the apocalypse. “I promise to study hard,” he adds reverently, feeling frustrated with himself that he had not paid that much attention to the Church’s teachings before. “I will not fail you, Dominus.”

“Good,” Riario nods. He pulls Nico closer and kisses his forehead tenderly. “ _Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it. Because the time is near.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness - John 1:9 
> 
> Anyone who wants to be first must be the very last, and the servant of all. Mark 9:35
> 
> “Blessed is the one who reads aloud the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear it and take to heart what is written in it. Because the time is near.” Revelation 1:3


	8. Revelation 20:4

Sixtus looks at his son as he slowly chews a grape. “The boy,” he smirks, “where is he?”

Girolamo raises his eyes slowly and looks at his father across the table. The brazen question doesn't surprise him, but he cannot help but wonder whether the man only does this to torture him rather than have any real interest in Nico. “Why do you ask, Your Holiness?” he dares.

The Pope scowls. He picks up a green apple and throws it towards his bastard child, narrowly missing him even though Girolamo doesn't make any attempt to avoid the projectile. “Answer my question!” he snaps angrily.

Riario grins. He finds his father easier to handle when there is no pretence of niceties between them. “He has gone back to Florence,” he states casually, sipping his wine. “To Leonardo da Vinci.”

A frown darkens across the Pope's brow. “The sodomite?”

“Indeed, Holy Father,” Riario smirks, tilting his head a little to really take in his father’s reaction.

“Hm,” Sixtus contemplates this and once again Girolamo asks himself whether the upset is because of the loss of a toy or the loss of something his father could use against him. “Not to worry,” the Pope shrugs though, “I have a mission for you, my dear boy.”

Girolamo blinks. “Your Holiness?”

“You will go to Naples. Tell Ferrante that I am willing to discuss his proposal. _If_ ,” the Pope raises a fat finger, “he takes care of that adders nest in Florence. Since you failed so miserably to do so,” he stabs.

Girolamo holds his mask in place, both at the dig and the order. His heart beats faster though. He has no desire to travel to Naples. Not least because meeting with King Ferrante will undoubtedly mean meeting with his son. He had known Alfonso since they were young lads and, just like his tyrant father, the son too believes that the world centres entirely around him. Indeed Alfonso had always claimed to be his closest friend, whereas Girolamo can hardly think of anyone he would rather spend time with than that unholy brat. Still, he is wise enough to know how to play politics and the spoilt princeling is a formidable soldier if nothing else. He will have to grin and bear it.

Then there is Nico of course… He calculates in his head how long he'll be gone for. Four days travelling,  perhaps three if he takes his better horsemen to accompany him. A day for negotiating. At least another to dine with the host and not give offence. He cringes inwardly as he realises he will probably be gone for a week.

_You are too close now. Your disciple is starting to open his eyes. He trusts you. And once he learns the truth he will aid your crusade. You cannot end what you've started now._

“You will leave immediately,” his father's order removes any other options from his mind. _There is no time to make other arrangements. You will have to leave Nico in Zita's care until you return._

“Yes, Your Holiness,” he rises to his feet and walks over to kiss his father's ring, wary as always in case the man decides to lash out. But the cold and wicked glint in his father's eyes puts more fear in Riario's heart than the threat of his fist. _He knows Nico is still here!_ he realises that this mission is an order to get him out of the way while the hunt is on. _Has he followed me? Does he know where I have hidden Nico?_ No, he had been too careful for that for sure. But a coldness creeps into his bones as he knows that once more his father holds all the strings. “I will go at once,” he swallows and makes his leave.

_Should I go and see him? Should I move him to somewhere else? No, there is no time! And he will have you followed for sure if you go to him now. You'll lead him directly to his prey._

As he hastens back to his rooms he thinks what he needs to tell Zita what she has to do in order to keep their only hope alive.

+++

As Zita unlocks the door, a tray balanced on her free hand, she listens out for any noise coming from the corridors above. She had been careful before as per Count Riario's instructions, but now every fibre in her body is on high alert.

Nico puts down the book onto the bed, looking up as he hears the lock of the door release. He tries to hide his disappointment when it is Zita who walks in through the door not his mentor. “Good evening, Zita. Where is Count Riario?”

Zita does not answer straight away. She carefully places the tray on the floor and then locks the door behind her. She walks up to Nico and kneels down to pour him some wine. “His Grace has gone to Naples,” she says quietly.

Nico swallows, _Why did he not tell me?_ He takes a mouthful of the wine as he digests the news. “How long will he be gone?”

Zita looks up at Nico, folding her hands in her lap. “Six to seven days,” she replies, biting her lip. “He has asked me to keep you company in his absence.” Her deep brown eyes search Nico's face for a reaction to this news.

Nico can tell that Zita is as keen on that idea as he is. _This is a good thing; you can study the Holy Book. Just as count Riario did in quietness. “_ Thank you for agreeing to keep me company.”

Zita offers the young man a smile. “I …” she clears her throat to start again, “We must be careful. Girolamo told His Holiness that you have returned to Florence. But he is concerned that he is not believed and that Pope Sixtus is looking for you.”

Nico nods, looking down at his hands. “Is he likely to look here?” he asks in a low voice. _Surely not? Riario said I was safe here._

Zita tilts her head, taking in Nico's features. “Girolamo has given me instructions,” she says vaguely. “In any case, His Holiness has a different interest in your whereabouts now.”

“What other interest has the Pope got in me?” Nico asks, looking up and locking eyes with Zita.

Zita looks to the door, unsure whether to tell Nico what Girolamo had told her. Of course she should not, but perhaps it will help their cause if the young man understands the true politics at play. “His Grace has gone to Naples to seek audience with King Ferrante,” she almost whispers, even though down here no-one will hear them. “His Holiness seeks to take control of Florence through an alliance. By force,” she adds, looking at Nico intently.

Nico gulps at this news, the sheer importance of the situation sinking in. _He will use me as a bargaining chip._ “I must send warning to my maestro, so he can warn Lorenzo,” he urges, jumping to his feet. “I cannot let him take Florence.”  

“Absolutely not!” Zita says fiercely, forgetting her position in her emotions. She quickly pulls herself together though. “His Grace has a plan,” she reassures. “You must trust him, Nico. You cannot betray him after all he's done to keep you safe, to teach you.” _I will not allow it!_  

“What is Count Riario's plan?” Nico asks. He wants to argue with Zita however sits back down on the bed. “Why has he not told me this plan?” _Does he not trust me?_

Zita frowns, crossing her arms. “What His Grace has confided in me is not for me to repeat,” she says a little sternly. “If Girolamo has not told you, then it is not my place to do so.”

 _How am I meant to trust in him when, Riario has not even told me his plan?_ Nico huffs to himself, feeling put out that once again his count had confided in Zita rather than in him. But he knows that he will have to wait until his dominus returns to ask him himself. In the meantime, he will have to do as Zita has said and trust that the count will not allow Florence to fall. What other choice does he have? _Other than pray ..._

“Zita what do you believe in? Are you a Catholic?” he asks curiously.

Zita blinks at the unexpected question but then smiles. “God has many forms and goes by many names,”  She says in her soft but confident voice. “And we are all His children. In my country, there is this legend. That God made his children from clay. He put the first batch in an oven to bake, but left them there too long, and they emerged burned and black, so he threw them away to the southern part of Africa. He took the second batch from the oven too soon, and they were pasty and white, so he threw them northward, where they became the European populations. The third and final batch was just right, and God put them in Ethiopia.” She smiles a pearly white smile at the young man.

Nico smiles back at the pretty woman. “I like your God's teachings. And your culture is fascinating to me,” Nico admits, patting to the seat beside him for Zita to sit. “Our God teaches us in completely different ways; mainly by book and churches. Your teachings sound more like they are passed down through the generations. I like that way.”

Zita takes the offered seat and then takes Nico's hands in hers, looking into his eyes. “Nico, your God and my God are the same. _We_ are the same; His children. It is not God who teaches us in churches and  books but the people. To Girolamo the Christian doctrine helps him to understand God better and so it is for all faiths. But God does not mind if we call him Yahweh or Jehovah or Allah. As long as we live a good and honest life in His servitude.”

Nico thinks about this for a second. _Is she right? Are we all being foolish?_ He shakes his head. “I do not believe that. The Christian God, is the One and only Who has divine power. He is the All-seeing and All-knowing. The Only One Who can grant us forgiveness.”

Zita laughs softly. “Girolamo would say the same,” she smiles. She lets go of Nico's hands and hands him some of the bread she had brought down. “It does not matter, our differences. When the end comes, God will judge us all.” She cocks her head at Nico. “Have you been reading the Book of Revelations?”

Nico smiles indicating to his copy of the Holy text which is open on the page he had been reading. “Yes, I have been studying the text. It is fascinating. Have you read it?”

“Of course,” Zita nods. “ _And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, Who is worthy to open the book, and to loose the seals thereof?”_ she quotes one of the count’s favourite passages.

Nico smiles. “That is the passage I had just been reading.” He picks up the book showing her the page he is on. “ _And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain.”_ Nico quotes back. “Makes me think of the keys to the vault of heaven.”

“Si,” Zita beams. She grabs Nico's face between her hands in her excitement. “Girolamo says that God sent you. His angel. I beg of you, Nico, help him.”

Nico jolts at the sudden unexpected touch. “Y-you are mistaken, Zita, I am no angel.” But as he looks into Zita’s intense deep brown eyes he can see the certainty there. “I - I am a man. Not an angel of God.”  

Zita pulls back her hands, flushing, embarrassed by the familiarity she had shown her master's guest and annoyed with herself that she had broken the spell of Nico's insight in her urgency. “Forgive me, please, Signore,” she bows her head.

Nico puts his hand under her chin, tilting Zita’s face so they lock eyes again. “I wish I could help, I really do. But I am God's child. Just as you are, as Count Riario is. I am a mortal man.”

“I understand,” Zita nods and hastily gets up. “Is there anything else I may be of service with, Signore?” she falls quickly back into the safety of her role as Riario's personal servant.

“Call me Nico,” Nico corrects like he had previously. “There is nothing else, but thank you for coming to see me. I hope you will visit me again soon.” As Zita goes to turn a thought enters his mind. “Actually, there is something you could do for me. Can you bring me one of count Riario’s whips?”

Zita frowns at that request bit but then reluctantly nods. “I will see what I can do,  Sig...Nico.”

+++

“Amico!” Girolamo reluctantly lets Alfonso grab him into a tight embrace as soon as he has dismounted. He awkwardly returns the absurdly intimate gesture, pulling up his nose at the scent of sweat that tickles his nostrils. “How was the journey?”

 _Hot. Dusty. Tedious._ “I would welcome a bath,” Riario answers and immediately regrets the words as they come from his lips.

“Of course,” Alfonso puts his arm around the count's shoulders. “My men will take care of the horses and your companions. Let us go to the bathhouse and we can catch up on all the gossip.”

Riario cannot help but cringe visibly at that prospect. Communal bathing had always been an activity that he absolutely loathed. The idea of disrobing in front of other men, of sharing the water with them whilst their boy-slaves would run around in their short thin tunics, feels obscene. It reminds him of the pagan practices of the ancient Roman elite, rather than that of good Christian men of the modern day. And he will never understand how such an environment can be considered a relaxing and professional setting for discussing important politics by anyone. His only hope is that Ferrante himself will not join them in this spectacle.

“You spend too much time inside the Vatican,” Alfonso observes as some little while later Riario awkwardly appears at the edge of the pool, a towel pulled tight across his waist. “You look pale, Count,” he adds as his eyes scan his guest’s toned body.

Girolamo makes sure to avert his eyes from the other who has already sunk himself into the clear water. He struggles to hide his revulsion and briefly his thoughts flicker to Nico and the chastity device that his disciple had so respectfully adorned for him to hide this vulgarity. He realises with an ache in his heart that he wishes Nico was by his side now.

“I have no time,” _or desire,_ “to lounge in the sun,” he says bitterly, which only attracts laughter from Alfonso. “I have been rather busy.”

“Lighten up, Girolamo,” Alfonso snorts as he wades to the count's side of the pool. “Come, join me. You said you needed a bath. Or would you rather have a massage first?” he asks, already clicking his fingers.

Riario flushes as a boy with blonde bouncing curls comes running to his master’s call and again his thoughts drift to his submissive, helping him bathe, taking care of him.

“No,” he croaks and reluctantly lowers himself into the water before the boy can get near him, not bothering to remove the modesty towel from his waist as he does so.

Again Alfonso laughs. “You're such a prude, Girolamo. Surely God made us bare. Or are you so small that you are emb…”

“Do not insult me, Alfonso,” the count cuts his host off abruptly. “And if Naples is embracing Florentine frivolity perhaps the offer I have come with is misplaced. Should I advise His Holiness that Naples no longer sides with Rome in favour of less godly pursuits?”

Alfonso bites his lip. He wants to say that it is well known that Pope Sixtus has no such issues with a little indulgence, but he decides it would be foolish to risk the treaty over something so banal. “What's been keeping you so busy then, old friend?” he quickly changes tactics.

Riario forces himself to relax, forces himself not to focus on the nude body beside him. Alfonso is good-looking, toned, bronzed. And the count hates how he flounces these assets as he leans back against the side of the pool like a whore. For a moment a different image flashes before his eyes. Of water colouring a deep shade of red as the blade of a knife removes the offence from his peripheral vision.

_Focus!_

“Lorenzo,” he answers, closing his eyes to will the tempting vision away. “He refuses to submit to Rome. To His Holiness. Florence is lawless. Godless. A city run by heathens and whores.”

Alfonso raises a bemused eyebrow. “I thought your cousin was supposed to deal with Lorenzo.”

At that Riario snorts. “Lucrezia? The one talent I once attributed to her appears to have failed us as she spreads her thighs all too freely. She is no use to our plight. Florence is welcome to another whore.”

Alfonso grins widely at that. “I wouldn't mind having a go with that pretty little cunt.”

Riario cocks his head, looking at Alfonso for the first time since he found himself in this unwelcome situation.

“Come on, Girolamo, she's beautiful if nothing else,” Alfonso dares.

“Yes,” Riario agrees. “If you do not mind having Lorenzo's sloppy seconds. In any case, you have a beautiful wife. Do you fail to please her that you are looking to stick a harlot like my cousin?” the count takes the opportunity for revenge for Alfonso's earlier comment about his endowment.

Alfonso grins wickedly at the count. “Not at all. That doesn't mean I haven't got any energy left to let your cousin feel what it is like to have a real man between her legs.”

Riario has a hard time not to roll his eyes. “If your father agrees to aid His Holiness in ending the Medici line she might be looking for a new patron to buy her pretty dresses,” he humors Alfonso. _Although even Lucrezia has standards, I'm sure._

“And you?” Alfonso asks as he calls the servant boy over to massage his shoulders. “Who is keeping the bed of the Lord of Imola warm?”

Girolamo swallows as he weighs that question on his tongue. _Zita._ He thinks about her warm body pressed against his, soothing his mind and pleasing his body. The only woman who had ever caught his eye. The woman who shares his nightmares and his hopes.

 _And Nico…_ He jolts at that thought. _No, Nico is my pupil, my disciple._ And yet he roused these feelings in him… Even now the thought of that angelic face looking up at him in submission stirs under the thin cover of his towel and he shifts to hide his sin.

“There is no-one of note,” he lies. It would be foolish to give Alfonso any information that could risk everything now that he is so close.

+++

Zita's heart beats wildly in her chest as she fumbles with the keys. She listens again for the footsteps that had followed her around the first time she had wanted to come down here. She is sure that she's not being paranoid. Someone is tracing her steps and it had taken her all afternoon to throw the bloodhound off her scent. But eventually going into the washrooms seemed to have done the trick and she sighs in relief as the halls around her remain silent.

“Nico,” she whispers urgently as she steps into the darkness. She isn't sure exactly how late it is, but guesses it must be near midnight. “Nico, it's me. Zita.”

Nico jolts awake, sitting up boltright. He had been dreaming of his count bringing his long black whip down onto his flesh. Sweat trickles down his face which flushes scarlet as he can feel his hardened prick between his legs. The apprentice hastily reaches for the thin blanket covering his sin from view. “Good evening Zita,” he says trying to keep his voice steady.

The servant woman takes no notice of Nico's predicament as she uses the little light of her night candle to identify the items she's brought with her. She does not dare to light the torches on the wall, just in case someone had followed her after all.

“I'm sorry I did not come earlier, Signore,” she continues to whisper. “I could not be sure that I was not being watched,” she tries to offer some explanation whilst not wishing to alarm Count Riario's guest.

Nico can feel his stomach rumble as he squints trying to make out Zita’s features in the poor lighting. He watches as Zita pulls out a loaf of bread and a lump of cheese from the satchel she is carrying and accepts them gratefully, taking a bite from the bread. “It's alright, it's not your fault,” he says with a smile after he has swallowed the bread. “Does the Pope have people watching you?”

Zita pours the wine for Nico as she nods. “I tried to come earlier but I could not risk anyone seeing me use the passage. You must ensure you make no noise and no light, Nico. To be safe. I have brought some extra provisions, just in case I cannot visit tomorrow,” she whispers still.

“I will be as silent as the grave,” Nico replies now washing down the bread with a mouthful of the red wine. “Is there any news from Count Riario?” he asks, knowing it is very unlikely.  

“No. He should return as planned.” Zita rummages deeper in the bag and pulls out the item Nico had asked her to bring. She had hesitated initially; it had felt wrong to go through Girolamo's dresser without his permission. But his parting words had convinced her, _Nico is my salvation,_ our _salvation. Remember, he must find God, he_ must _find his true path._

Silently she holds the thin black whip out to Nico.

Nico looks at the whip feeling his stomach jolt excitedly. “Thank you.” He puts the whip under the bed. _I must punish myself for my wicked dreams._ He swallows, wishing Riario was here to punish him for his sins. “I do miss the count,” he admits.

Zita looks at Nico for a moment, feeling that familiar discomfort between them when they talk about Count Riario. “As do I,” she nods. “He will be back soon,” she adds. “But now I must go in case anyone is missing me. Take care of yourself, Nico,” she urges once more.

Nico cannot help his disappointment as she leaves him so soon. While he had enjoyed the peace and quiet of his cell, he had missed company and the thought of another unknown number of hours, perhaps days, chills his heart. But he nods. “And you too.”

+++

Watching Alfonso and his father interact is like someone holds up a great, dirty, cracked mirror in front of his face and Girolamo feels slightly nauseated.

“Quiet, Alfonso,” Ferrante barks. “Let the adults speak.”

It angers Girolamo how the son cringes before his father like a frightened child. He wants to shout at him, _You pathetic little man! You are a soldier, men throw themselves in the dust at your feet and yet here you cower like an infant! Stand up to him!_ He realises he has curled his fists around the arms of his chair as he breathes hard through his nostrils.

“Count?”

Girolamo blinks as the question slowly repeats itself in his mind. “Yes, Your Grace,” he pulls himself together, forcing his gaze to focus on the king. “And of course Rome shall compensate you handsomely for those expenses.”

“Very well,” the king nods slowly. “And the Medici wealth?”

“To be shared between the coffers of Rome and Naples.” Riario throws a quick glance at Alfonso, who now sits quietly at his father's side.

“And what will happen to Lorenzo and his family, after they've surrendered?” All heads snap to the duchess, who until now had listened to the men silently. “If he surrenders willingly, will you spare him?” the woman asks without blinking.

Riario raises an eyebrow as Alfonso's face betrays a multitude of emotions that shifts between embarrassment and anger.

“Absolutely not,” the king begins to laugh loudly. “We shall ensure that the Medici line is wiped from history.” Turning to his honourable guest, “In the name of God Almighty of course. An example should be made of all those who challenge the word of the Lord!”

“Indeed,” Riario nods but he notes Ippolita’s paling colour at this news. _Perhaps Alfonso really is failing his marital duties_ , he muses. _That could be dangerous though, if his wife feels an allegiance towards Lorenzo. Or, it could be used to our advantage…_ his brain works through the possibilities of causing an even greater rift between the two reigning families. He thinks about the prince’s comments about Lucrezia and wonders if it would be worthwhile exploring that a little further.

“More importantly,” Ferrante leans himself a little across the table, pointing his knife with some meat on the end at the count, “what is Rome's intention with Florence once we have removed the snake from the grass? Hm? The city will need ruling. It's citizens to be reminded of their submission to Christendom.”

Riario almost feels pity as he can see the eagerness in Alfonso's eyes.

“And Urbino shall ensure this is done,” he cannot help but smirk as he says it.

“Federico? You've got to be kidding me!” Alfonso jumps to his feet, slamming his hands down on the table. “You will have Florence run by a condottierio?!”

“Alfonso!” king Ferrante throws his son daggers.

But Riario seats himself back comfortably as he watches his _friend_ flush in anger. “By a duke,” he corrects. “One who has sworn fealty to the Papacy.”

“He's a Capitano di Ventura!” Alfonso snorts. “He will swear fealty to whoever offers him the greatest return!”

“Alfonso!” his father shouts this time as he too rises to his feet, yanking hard at his arm so that their faces are but inches from each other. “If you cannot have a civil conversation at this table remove yourself from my sight!”

“But father…” Alfonso splutters. “Your Grace,” he corrects himself. “Surely I…”

“You what?!” Ferrante narrows his eyes at his son and lets go of his hold.

Alfonso searches the count's face for support, but finds only a stoic mask instead. “Excuse me,” he coughs, feeling himself tremble with rage at being made to look a fool by his father in front if his wife and his friend. He nods curtly to the count and then hastens out of the dining room.

Ferrante sits himself down heavily, flicking his fingers for the servants to refill his goblet. “Forgive the interruption,” he motions dismissively. “Your proposal is of interest, Girolamo. I shall sleep on it. For now,” he claps his hands, “let us enjoy some entertainment.”

Riario looks at Ippolita, who looks back at him unsurely, clearly not knowing whether she's better of staying by the king's side or following her husband. He returns his gaze to his host, saying, “I thank you for the kind offer, Your Grace, but I ask that I may retire. It has been a long day.” He does not await permission to get up and he wipes his mouth on the serviette. 

Ferrante looks disappointed but then nods. “Very well. We can continue our discussions in the morning.”

Riario nods his head to his superior and then walks up to Ippolita, taking her hand. “Sleep well, milady,” he says sweetly, kissing the back of her hand. He briefly searches her eyes for any more information that may be of use, but the duchess does not even blink as she smiles coldly at him, “And you, Your Grace.”

+++

Nico looks up watching as Count Riario circles him. His eyes dangerously dark as they scan over his flesh. He pulls against his chains on his wrists which are attached to the stone walls of the cell. A shiver of anticipation runs down his spine as he tries to figure out his next move.

Riario barks an order and Nico obeys in an instant, looking straight ahead at the brick of the wall. He tries to shift the weight off his knees, however, they are bound together with a thick leather strap.

The apprentice draws in breath against the metal ball gag in his mouth, which had been forced between his teeth when he had opened his mouth to question the older man's intentions. The whip comes down against his back in one swift movement and he mewls against the cold metal in his mouth.

The younger man's prick is so hard now he feels like he is going to burst. If he could speak he knows he would be pleading with his lover to touch him all over with those oh so skilled hands of his. He looks up at his Dominus with pleading blue eyes, only to be met with rolling deep laughter as the older man pulls back his hand and slaps him across the cheek, making his head jolt backwards.

Riario grabs hold of his shoulders pushing him forward as he forces him to face the floor, exposing his backside into the air. He tries to shift his position but finds he cannot move as his bindings keep him in Riario's desired position. Hands stroke along his back, almost gently to begin with but quickly the touch turns to a sharp sting as the count brings down the flat of his hand against Nico’s skin. Riario aims the slaps lower and lower down his body. Nico writhes in mid air as both pleasure and pain course through him. Soon the count’s hands move to his rear, causing red marks of ownership to appear on each cheek.

Nico can feel Riario's free hand pull apart his cheeks, and then there is a silence.

Nico twists his head around trying to look at his count but cannot see properly.

 _Slap!_ Nico howls as Riario's hands come down against his pucker, but does not have time to recover as he is met with another spank just as painful as the first. Slap after slap comes down against that oh so sinful spot, and making his body jerk as he humps against thin air. _Whore! You dirty whore,_ is all the younger man can think over and over again. He could come like this if he was allowed, but knows this will anger his dominus and so he tries to think of anything that may stave off such a failure of his taught control.

Suddenly the slaps stop and he can hear Riario undo his buttons as he fumbles with his slacks. He tries to turn his head more now, with more urgency , trying to get a view of that which he desires most.

Riario grabs his hair yanking his head back as he pushes his rock hard shaft against  Nico's sore rim.

 _Do It!! Do It!_ Nicolongs to order, to beg.

But just as he thinks the count might finally answer his prayers the image distorts and then everything turns black.

Nico jolts up, feeling his hair clings to his forehead. He looks around the darkened room, confused. Then it dawns on him that it was only a dream. He takes a deep breath. Embracing himself as the sudden feeling of loneliness grabs him. As he wraps his arms across his chest he feels the sticky wet cold and his face turns scarlet as he realises it is his own semen clinging to his flesh.

 _The Devil's been at work,_ he thinks shamefully, knowing that his Dominus would be sure to punish him for such an ungodly act. _I must renounce my sins,_ Nico thinks. He desperately reaches for the black whip and begins to bring it down against his flesh in the absence of his master.

+++

Riario walks up to Alfonso as he stands staring out of the window, out over the bay. “You left us rather abruptly,” he remarks as he folds his sleeves over his hands.

Alfonso gives the count a cursory sideways glance but then returns his hard gaze to the dark expanse of water. “My father …” he begins, but then stops, unsure how to say what he wants to say.

“You are undervalued, Alfonso.”

The prince jolts in surprise. Riario was not one to offer compliments and he looks at him with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. But the Roman smiles back at him.

“You wish to take over Lorenzo’s throne, after we’ve brought the traitor to his knees,” the Captain of the Vatican states quietly but directly.

“I can’t see why not,” Alfonso retorts sharply. “Do you really think that Urbino will do a better job than me?” he challenges his friend.

 _Better? No. But the options are limited_ , Riario thinks to himself, but to Alfonso he says, “Convince me. Urbino, as you say, is in my uncle’s pocket. But you and I … we have a new vision.” He forces himself to lay his arm around Alfonso to build that sense of comradery. “Urbino is only after the treasure. But we, Alfonso, we can see a far greater reward. One that transcends all the riches of the Italian city states combined.”

“We?” Alfonso blinks, unsurely.

Riario tilts his head a little, tempting the other man to consider what he is offering him.. “Four eyes against one?” he smirks. “Urbino is no match for you. Just imagine, my friend, sitting in the Medici palace, Ippolita at your side. And both Clarice and Lucrezia to entertain you when it pleases you.”

“Hm,” Alfonso huffs, but the suggestion is appealing. “And you? What do you hope to get out of this, count?”

“ _Salvation_ , Alfonso,” Riario states simply when the other man looks at him questioningly. “Together we can re-join the scattered kingdoms to stand with Rome as God’s Kingdom on earth. The time of reckoning is near, Alfonso. _And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them: and I saw the souls of them that were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God, and which had not worshipped the beast, neither his image, neither had received his mark upon their foreheads, or in their hands; and they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years.”_

Alfonso looks at his friend with empathy as he starts to quote the Bible at him, but his grins and nods, throwing his arm around him also. “Whatever, does it for you, brother. Now tell me more about your plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Condottiero - a leader of the professional military free companies (or mercenaries) contracted by the Italian city-states and the Papacy.  
> Capitano di Ventura - Mercenary Captain
> 
> Bible Quotes
> 
> And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, Who is worthy to open the book, and to loose the seals thereof? - Revelation 5:2
> 
> And I saw an angel coming down out of heaven, having the key to the Abyss and holding in his hand a great chain. - Revelation 20:1
> 
> And I saw thrones, and they sat upon them, and judgment was given unto them: and I saw the souls of them that were beheaded for the witness of Jesus, and for the word of God, and which had not worshipped the beast, neither his image, neither had received his mark upon their foreheads, or in their hands; and they lived and reigned with Christ a thousand years. - Revelation 20:4


End file.
